Harry Potter and the Fury of the Elements
by The Phoenix King
Summary: CHAPTER 29 UP! AU Sixth Year. The Second War has begun in earnest. Death Eater and Shadow Hunter battle for supremacy. Will Harry fulfill his destiny as the Daemonslayer, or will the world be crushed by the Dark Lord? HarryCho. Anonymous reviews accepted.
1. Another Prophecy?

Harry Potter and the Fury of the Elements  
  
Chapter 1: Another Prophecy?  
  
They met in the chamber, hooded and cloaked, four of the most powerful mages in the world. One inspecting them could have seen not even their eyes, shrouded underneath their hoods. The air around them seemed to shimmer, and become wavy due to the raw magic coursing through their veins.  
  
They met in the Chamber of Life, so named due to the magnificent garden that ran through it. Masses of plants grew, some towering over ten feet tall. A crystal-clear river circled around, fed by a mighty waterfall. A multitude of small animals run underfoot, and flights of hawks circled overhead. From several braziers placed around the room, strange incense was burnt, and vine creepers covered walls and pillars.  
  
However, the beauty around them was lost on the four figures, brows furrowed in concentration, strange chanting appearing from their lips.  
  
"The Dark Lord's armies are gathering," one of the mages said, lightning crackling from his fingertips. "Our spies have found that he is recruiting more Death Eaters, and many Dark creatures are rushing to join his service."  
  
"Any guess as the size of his forces?" This question came from the second mage, bulky and massively built, two horns protruding from his head.  
  
"I'd say about five hundred Death Eaters. Dark creatures, well, there are too many to count, with more on the way."  
  
The third mage pursed her lips. Pointed ears emerged from the darkness of her hood, and she spoke with a soft, musical voice. "It's even worse then we could have imagined. And the Ministry of Magic isn't helping at all."  
  
"Really?" The sarcasm in the voice of the fourth mage was apparent, stroking his right hand, which was twisted and mutated into a large tree- root.  
  
The third mage rolled her eyes. "Yes, Avarat. Fudge, in his incompetence, is constantly stalling the progress of his government in fighting Voldemort. The British people need to be prepared, but with Fudge's new security laws, and his lust for power, not much is being done."  
  
Avarat laughed, a deep, growling sound. "Yes, I know, Evelas."  
  
The second mage growled. "Magnus, if Voldemort were to launch a major attack against our territory, would your Shadow Hunters be able to defeat him?"  
  
Magnus shook his head. "Bloodstone, my old friend, I am not sure. Perhaps if we launched a direct assault against him, we might-"  
  
"-be utterly destroyed! Do not fool yourselves, any direct attack against the Dark Lord would be useless!" The sound of walking feet echoed within the Chamber, as a fifth figure entered.  
  
The four mages turned around to see the newcomer. Like the others, he was hooded and cloaked, but his distinguishing feature was his eyes. They shone a vibrant yellow, like a cat, glowing eerily, two pools of light in a sea of darkness.  
  
"Why say you that, Seros of the Spirit Walkers?" Magnus spat at the approaching figure.  
  
"Be silent, Magnus of the Shadow Hunters! I have much to tell you, and it is of great importance. My fellow Spirit Walkers and I, analysing the streams of Time and Fate, have discovered something. Something that will aid us greatly in the war to come."  
  
Bloodstone rattled his horns. "Well. What is it then!" he snapped in impatience.  
  
"A prophecy. My friends, and fellow Council members, the prophecy states that in the second war against Voldemort, four Champions would arise. These Champions, mere children really, holding incredible power, would be instrumental in the fight against the Dark Lord and his armies. One of the Champions is also destined to fight the Dark Lord in single combat, and, if his skill and courage are enough, destroy him."  
  
"The Daemonslayer is amongst them?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
The room fell silent. All of the mages gathered there knew of the powers of the Spirit Walkers in predicting future events, so the accuracy of the prophecy was not in doubt. Each was lost in their thoughts for a moment, pondering the impact of it.  
  
It was Magnus who spoke first. "Spirit Walker, such an event would be beyond our greatest hopes. But tell us, who are these Champions?"  
  
Seros bowed his head. "That, my friends, I do not know. But, all of the Champions are children, who attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England."  
  
"Hogwarts!"  
  
Shock spread throughout the mages. The Daemonslayer, the one who could destroy the Dark Lord, was at Hogwarts! With three similarly powerful mages! Each of the figures thought for a moment. The silence was unbearable, as even the creatures within the Chamber fell quiet.  
  
Bloodstone broke the quiet. "Spirit Walker, has the Council been informed?"  
  
Seros shook his head. "No. I came as soon as it was divined."  
  
"Very well then. We shall inform the Council of this prophecy later, but for now, let us inform Albus Dumbledore, at Hogwarts first. Magnus, select your best Shadow Hunter, and send him to England with the prophecy and our regards. If the survival of our people is to be assured, then we must join forces with the Ministry of Magic!" 


	2. If Only

**Chapter 2: If Only**

The rain poured down hard, pelting the rooftops of Number 4 Privet Drive. The neighbours would be heard commenting in the days afterwards about how they had never seen such a storm before. It was like the gods themselves were grieving, and the sky shook with their rage, as lightning bolts crashed to earth, knocking out power in sections of the city.

Harry Potter gazed out the window from his bedroom. Even the storm's intensity could not match the warring emotions he felt in his heart.

Harry had returned to Privet Drive crippled with grief. His godfather, Sirius Black, the closest thing to a father Harry had, had been killed in the massive duel within the Department of Mysteries. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, was back, no doubt plotting new plan to gain domination over the wizarding world. And most of all, Harry had failed Cho Chang.

Harry lay back on his bed, and sighed. He thought of Cho, her bright face, her lively eyes, her long raven-black hair, her moist lips...He shook his head, bring him back to reality. He and Cho had broken up over an argument involving her friend Marietta, who had betrayed the DA last year.

Both of them had been stupid; Harry consumed with rage over Cedric's death, his anger at anyone who tried to help, Cho, lost in sorrow over Cedric. Both had been so short-sighted, and unable to look beyond themselves. 'If only we could have worked things out,' Harry thought. 'If only...'

"Boy! Get down here!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the kitchen. Life at the Dursleys had been better than usual, mainly because Uncle Vernon had been too scared to do anything to Harry, fearing retribution from Mad-Eye Moody. But, it's only three days since I got back.

"Coming, Uncle." Harry said, shoving various spellbooks and magical items aside as he went down to his Uncle's voice. Since the Dursleys were too scared to mistreat him, or assign him heavy labour, he was using the extra time to study his spells, and complete homework from Hogwarts. Harry was often unsure of what was worse, maintaining the garden, or completing a two- foot long project from Professor Snape.

Harry entered the kitchen, and observed the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was tapping his foot nervously, while reading the paper. Aunt Petunia was by the oven, baking the roast for tonight's dinner. Dudley was eating through a measly lunch of carrot sticks (courtesy of the Smeltings dieting plan), and reading the latest note from his girlfriend, Mary.

Of all the sights in this house, Dudley was probably the vilest. His title as the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast had done two things. First, it swelled his ego to the size of the Goodyear Blimp, which was more than usual. He had already forgotten how Harry had saved him from the Dementors the previous year, dismissing the incident as "one of the freak's tricks."

Secondly, he had gotten a girlfriend, Mary Hampton, a fawning, airheaded fop, attracted to Dudley only by his fame and his strength, not his personality. Her attractive form and long, brown hair was just a façade for the total hag that lurked underneath. The way she acted around Dudley, all 'poor helpless me', was enough to make Harry vomit.

"Pay attention, boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice cut through Harry's reverie.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry muttered, teeth clenched. "Did you call?"

"Yes I did! Now, listen. Tonight, Aunt Marge will be coming to visit. After your last incident with her, I don't even want you to be with us. You will stay in your room until we tell you otherwise. Also, Dudley's girlfriend, Mary, will be coming too. You," Vernon barked, his face turning purple, "will not come near her. Who knows what freakish acts you will do to her? If you come within ten feet of her-"

Harry groaned. It was the same lecture every time Mary would come over. Don't come near her. Respect her. Watch your manners. Stay out of the way. Keep your hands to yourself. Harry closed his eyes, trying to keep the anger in as his uncle launched his tirade. 'Okay, Harry, stay calm. He's not worth it. He's not worth it, the ugly bastard. He's not worth it...'

"-do I make myself clear?" Vernon finished, his face almost purple from his paranoid ranting.

Harry looked him straight in the eye, "Yes, Uncle. I won't go near her."

Dudley belched, spewing chunks of carrot into the air. "That's right, freak. I don't even want you looking at my girlfriend!"

Harry laughed. "Seriously, Dudders. I don't want her. Her face looks like a horse's rear end. But that's not fair, to the horse."

"You little runt, I'll-"

Dudley rose from his seat, ready to pound Harry into next week, but Vernon stopped him. Insults and bandying was one thing, but the Dursleys feared using physical action against him, in fear that Mad-Eye would transfigure them all into moles. Dudley glared daggers into Harry's back as he left the room.

Harry returned to his room, and began to write a letter to the Order. After they had left, the Order had told Harry to write to them constantly, for fear that the Dursleys would try to mistreat him, disregarding Moody's warning. Over the only three days that he had been here at Number 4, Harry had received a multitude of letters from his friends, most consoling him about Sirius' death.

Harry smiled to himself. It was good to have friends there for him. Unfortunately, they had not sent any news about Voldemort, mainly along the lines of what he was doing, and planning. He dipped his quill into the inkwell, and began to write:

'Order,

Everything is going well. The Dursleys are a bunch of jerks, as usual, but other then that, they have been treating me well. I haven't heard any news about Voldemort yet. If you have, please send it to me.

I appreciate all the support you've given to me about Sirius. However, I need some time to get over his death. Thanks for the words of kindness, but I need to get over him in my own way.

Thanks,

Harry'

Harry roused his faithful owl, Hedwig, from her slumber. "Hey, girl. Take this to the Order, okay?" He opened the window, and was immediately sprayed by the pounding rain. "Go, okay?"

Hedwig nodded, and took off, into the thundering storm.

Harry closed the window, then returned to his bed, thinking and wrestling with his feelings. For the first few days, he was constantly crying. The impact of Sirius' death was sometimes more than he could bear. He had cursed them in his sleep, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Cho, his friends, everyone, in order to find an outlet. He blamed himself for falling for the visions, for leading Sirius to his death, for breaking up with Cho, all the mistakes he had made.

But, in the end, the rage had subsided. When he lay in bed, weeping to himself. He decided to make a commitment. 'Voldemort shall pay for all the crimes he has committed. This I swear. For Sirius, Cedric, and all those who have suffered at his hands, or the hands of his followers.'

Harry Potter would have his revenge.

Later that night, Harry listened to the sounds of pleasant conversation from down below, smelled the scent of a fine roast, and tried not to bounce off the walls of his room. For two hours now, Harry had to listen to Aunt Marge talking about her dogs, and how awful Harry's parents were, Dudley flirting with Mary, Mary responding with high praise of Dudley's muscles, and all of the other inane conversation that took place when the Dursleys invited guests for dinner.

Harry paced around the room. He was getting a major case of cabin fever in here, shut out for the outside world. No word yet of Voldemort, no unexplained deaths, no reports for the Order, probably because they were censoring his mail. Hedwig hadn't even returned yet. 'I need some answers. What is going on out there?'

As Harry pondered over his situation, he heard a scraping at the window. Grabbing his wand, he stood at his door, pointing towards the window, fearing the worst.

With a mighty crash, the window fell off its hinges, landing within Harry's room, shattering into a thousand pieces. Voices sounded from outside.

"Tonks, you moron, your going to attract the Muggles!"

"Sorry, guys!"

"Is Harry up there?"

"Let's find out."

Hovering in front of the window on their brooms, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt peered into Harry's room. "Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, hopping into his room. "Get ready, we've got to go."

"What! Why?" Harry said, moving to block the door.

From downstairs, Aunt Marge's shrill voice barked up. "What's going on up there, boy? Doing drugs, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I'll see to the boy, Marge." Uncle Vernon replied, as he started to trudge up the stairs.

Harry swore under his breath. "My uncle is coming! You guys had better hide!" He whispered to the Order members.

"Don't worry, Harry. Let's just get your stuff together quickly." Lupin said, motioning the others forward.

They worked together with amazing precision. As Harry and Tonks began to place his Hogwarts equipment in his wooden chest, Moody and Shacklebolt pushed a small cabinet to the door, blocking the way. Lupin stood watch, checking for the all-clear signal.

"Hold on a second, boy." Moody snapped, as he applied the Disillusionment Charm. Harry felt the familiar trickling sensation running down his body, just as Uncle Vernon reached the door.

"What rubbish are you up to this time, boy?" he shouted. Moody grinned. "I see he hasn't been following my instructions."

"Only partially, Mad-Eye." Harry replied, as the door rattled.

"What is up with you cousin, Dudley-poo?" Harry heard Mary asking.

"Oh, he's just a dumb freak. Nothing to worry about."

"Well, I'm just so scared by him, a student at St. Brutus. You won't let him hurt me, will you, Dudley-poo?"

Harry clenched his wand. "Next time I see that jerk, I'm going to Transfigure him to high heaven!" he said, gritting his teeth.

"There's no time for that, Harry. We've been signalled." Lupin said, pointing to the red sparks in the distance. "Let's go!"

"BOY. OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Pausing only to attach Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage to one of the brooms, Harry and the Order took off from Privet Drive, soaring towards Number 12 Grimmauld Place, into the dark and stormy night.


	3. Daelin Stormfury

Chapter 3: Daelin Stormfury

Harry stood in the front hall of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, soaked to the bone from the pounding rain. The flight from Privet Drive was carried out in silence, and now he was here. Back in Sirius' old house. 'Sirius'. Harry wiped away a tear, trying to hide his emotions from the others.

The Order members ushered him in, casting Heating Charms to dry their clothes. Harry noticed their faces, tense with shock and anger, holding their wands, as they were expecting to be attacked in the house. The relatively cheerful mood present the last time Harry was here was gone, replaced with an air of grim expectancy.

'What happened? Why is everyone so tense?' Harry thought, unlocking his trunk from his Firebolt. "Are you guys okay?" he asked.

Lupin shook his head. "When you hear the news, you'll understand. Tonks, you and Moody take Harry's things up to his room. Harry, come with me." He gestured over towards the kitchen. "Dumbledore will explain everything to you."

Harry and Lupin moved out of the hall, and into the living room. As they did, Lupin gestured around. "I hope you like it, Harry. Since Sirius died, we've been cleaning out all of the old junk, and making the house more livable."

Harry gasped. The severed house-elf heads mounted on the wall were gone, replaced with banners from various Quidditch teams. The room had been renovated, and the grimy couches had been cleaned, re-stuffed, and decorated with red and gold, the colours of Gryffindor House. The Black family portraits had been moved. All the dust, dirt and Doxies had been cleared out, and right on the ceiling, a massive Gryffindor banner hung. All in all, Number 12 more resembled the Gryffindor common room than the pit of pureblood supremacy that it was.

With two exceptions. The Black family tapestry remained, as did the portrait of Mrs. Black, behind the curtains. Fortunately, she was sleeping, so Harry and Lupin were able to sneak past her without getting a major rant about Muggle-lovers and half-bloods.

Lupin laughed, seeing Harry's dumbfounded expression. "Sorry that we couldn't get rid of her. The old bat's been keeping the house up lately; it's a miracle that we sneaked past her. Before he left, Kreacher tried to take her, but the Permanence Charm on the back works both ways."

"Kreacher! He escaped!"

"Aye," Lupin responded. "He cleared out before we could catch him, slippery rat. Fortunately, he didn't know much of the Order's workings, and the wards will prevent him from finding the place again, so he can't lead the Death Eaters to us."

Harry's hands clenched. "I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance," he snapped.

Lupin put his hand on Harry's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Well, Harry, he's gone now. He was a stinking traitor, but if he finds Voldemort, good riddance to him."

Harry took several deep breaths. "Are the Weasleys here? And Hermione?"

"Afraid not, Harry. They returned back to their homes once we made sure they were protected. Besides, if I'm correct, Dumbledore doesn't intend for you to be here for long."

"What! Where is he?"

Lupin did not respond, instead, he led Harry to the kitchen where Dumbledore sat. The aged wizard was reading through a large tome as he came in.

"Ah, Harry. Welcome back to Grimmauld Place. I see that the Order got you here without any mishaps." Dumbledore said, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "We have much to discuss. Lupin, would you excuse us for the moment?"

As Lupin left, Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "Harry, I would like to express my condolences about Sirius' death. He was a great man, and died a warrior. Remember him as such."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Professor. However, if the prophecy is true, then things have to change." He pounded the table once, for emphasis. "If I am to kill Voldemort, then I can't be kept in the dark anymore! I need to know what's going on, not be sequestered away until the time is right."

Harry became angrier as he went on. "I know you won't let me join the Order, but you could at least tell me what Voldemort is doing, what his plans are, where he has attacked! I can't live like this, Professor. For example, what's the big crisis? The Order broke through a window to escort me, and they acted like something major has happened."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed, Harry. That is why I have sent for you. As you know, after Voldemort attacked the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry quickly started to act. They began to enact various security laws, which allowed wizarding homes to be searched without warrant, and wizards and witches to be arbitrarily arrested without a warrant or any evidence. Auror presence has been stepped up in major areas, and key buildings, like the Ministry of Magic offices and Gringotts, have been upgraded with additional defences."

He paused for a moment, staring at Harry. "However, Minister Fudge has pointedly ignored our requests to remove the Dementors, and to send envoys to the giants, and other groups of magical creatures, in order to sway them to our side. This policy has now backfired on him. Harry, Azkaban was attacked by the Death Eaters."

Harry swore. This was big. Major. "What happened?" he asked, his mind going into overdrive. The fall of Azkaban would allow a large number of Death Eaters to escape, including Lucius Malfoy, and the other Death Eaters captured at the Department of Mysteries.

"Although Fudge did not remove the Dementors, he stationed a large contingent of Aurors at the prison to reinforce it. The Death Eaters stormed the prison through the hidden tunnels honeycombing the island, most likely shown to them by former inmates of the prison like Bellatrix Lestrange, and caught the Aurors from behind."

Dumbledore's eyes showed a distinct look of sorrow as he continued the tale. "While the Aurors were fighting, the Dementors attacked them, giving the Kiss to many. In total, forty-three Aurors and Ministry officials were killed, compared to only twelve Death Eaters."

Harry gnashed his teeth in anger. 'All those lives lost.' "Any members of the Order?" he asked, dreading the worst.

"Fortunately, none. However, one person you might know was killed. Amos Diggory. He was on an inspection when the raid took place. Hit by a Killing curse."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing. He had never liked Amos Diggory, but felt his pain when his son, Cedric, died. 'At least he died fast. Damn Voldemort for this!'

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "That's not the worst of it. Besides freeing the Death Eaters already on the island, many of the prisoners decided to join Voldemort. If my guess is correct, he will have an additional two hundred Death Eaters at his side, adding to his already considerable numbers. Now, Harry, I must ask you something. Have you had any strange dreams or visions lately?"

"No, Professor." Harry replied.

"Have you been practising your Occlumency techniques?" Dumbledore questioned Harry, his face etched with concern.

Harry shook his head. "Yes, Professor, and I think I'm getting better at it. Either I have been successful in blocking him out of my mind, or..."

"...He has been blocking the link himself, in order to prevent us from getting any advance warning of his plans." Dumbledore finished. "He did not want to risk it, an attack of this magnitude."

Harry began to despair. "Two hundred more, Dumbledore. How can we fight against them all?"

"With faith and courage, my friend. Voldemort's armies are growing, that is true. Yet, all is not lost." Dumbledore replied. "We have found something that may give us some comfort in the days ahead."

"What is it?" Harry asked, nervous with anticipation.

"We both know about the prophecy given to us by Professor Trelawney. However, some allies of ours recently discovered another prophecy, also relating to you." Dumbledore said, much to Harry's shock.

"May I hear it, Professor?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Are you sure you want to here it, boy?"

This statement came not from Dumbledore, but a new voice. Harry turned around, and in the hall, saw a tall figure standing in the shadows, hooded and cloaked. What lay underneath the hood Harry could not see, but he had no doubt that this person was very powerful.

"Are you prepared for what you might hear? How do you know that the information will not drive you mad, or crush your hopes to rubble? Is the price for such knowledge more than you can pay? What makes you prepared, boy?"

The probing voice of the stranger egged Harry on. "Show yourself, coward! I have a great dislike for those who hide and scheme in the shadows. I am ready to hear whatever you have to say. My godfather is dead, an insane Dark wizard is out to kill me and my friends, and I am supposed to kill him. I am ready to handle anything you can show me."

"Are you prepared to pay the cost, though? Acceptance of what you are about to hear?" came the reply from the shadows.

Harry glared at the figure. "Yes. I am."

He chuckled, "Well, Dumbledore, at least he has fire. Very well, Harry Potter. I will show you your fate."

The figure stepped into the light, and lowered his hood. "Now, Harry Potter. You can see me. And know that I have not brought schemes or tricks, but knowledge, knowledge that could save us all."

He was like no wizard Harry had seen before. His robes were a royal blue, decorated with gold runes from no language Harry had seen before. His dark- coloured skin was covered various cuts and scars, probably from knives. He grasped a wooden staff in his right hand, carved with intricate spirals and geometric shapes. His left hand held onto a brilliant glass sphere that sent multi-faceted light around the room. Blue eyes peered out from the gloom.

But what really caught Harry's attention was the powerful aura that permeated the air around him. Harry felt his hair stand on end for a moment has the newcomer entered the room.

"Harry, this is Daelin Stormfury, of the Shadow Hunters." Dumbledore said, pointing towards the newcomer. "He is a new addition to the Order, and is the liaison between us and his organization."

"Well met, Mr Potter. My brethren and I have heard much of your exploits against the Darkness." Stormfury said, placing the sphere upon the table.

"Uh, thanks, I guess. You're a what?"

"A Shadow Hunter. We are the guardians of nature, and we fight against the Darkness, wherever it lurks. Think of us as a unique kind of Auror." Stormfury replied, smiling. His face grew grim again as he place a hand on the sphere.

"Here is your prophecy, Mr. Potter. Listen well."

With a slight push of his hand, the sphere smashed onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. As it did, smoke rose from the remains, and coalesced into the form of a woman, wearing robes similar to Stormfury's. Her voice sounded clear as crystal as she unveiled this new prophecy:

"In the second conflict against the Dark Lord, four champions will arise from the castle of the white-beard. Pupils of the white-beard, blood and birthright of founders within their veins. Three are mighty. The flighted one, marked by the trickster, soul forged in the fires of sorrow. The cunning one, marked by the wyrm, soul forged in the fires of ambition. The forsaken one, marked by the tunneller, soul forged in the fires of treachery. One is mightiest, the Daemonslayer, marked by the enemy, soul forged in the fires of battle. The Daemonslayer possesses the power to stop the Dark Lord, and on the eve of the Long Night, they shall battle for the fate of all."

With that, the image melted into thin air, leaving Harry stunned in disbelief. He jumped up, facing the others. "What is that supposed to mean!" he demanded, confused and shaken.

"It means, Mr. Potter, that you are the Champion of Gryffindor." Stormfury replied.

Harry's mind whirled for a moment as he tried to comprehend that statement. 'How is that possible? "How do you know? What if you're wrong?" he retorted.

Dumbledore peered at Harry. "Simple logic, Harry. First, the prophecy says that the four champions are 'Pupils of the white beard.' That must mean that they are all students of me, the white-beard, and the castle is Hogwarts." At this point, he tugged on his beard for effect.

"Secondly, these champions have 'blood and birthright of the founders.' If we have determined that the castle is Hogwarts, then the founders of which they refer to are the Four Founders of Hogwarts. The champions must be the direct descendents of the Founders."

He paused for a moment to let it sink in, and continued. "As we know from the first prophecy, you must be the one to kill Voldemort. This new prophecy also speaks of that, and refers to you as the Daemonslayer. ' marked by the enemy', it says. Voldemort marked you with the scar that you carry. Therefore, I can see no other conclusion."

"Also, it would stand to reason that you are the Champion of Gryffindor due to the events of your second year. You pulled Gryffindor's sword from the Sorting Hat, correct?"

"Yes."

"I only understand the full impact of that event now. I merely thought that it was a random incident, but perhaps it was more. Wouldn't it make sense that Gryffindor's descendant, and not some ordinary student, be able to wield his sacred blade?"

Harry's eyes widened, as he began to understand. "But, that's just impossible! If I am his descendant, and have his powers, how come my parents didn't show any signs of it?"

There was a distinct pause, and then Stormfury answered. "That, we do not know."

Harry sat down again, his heart heavy. "Why do all these things happen to me?" he cried, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You will be going back to Hogwarts for extra training tomorrow, Harry. You go get some sleep." Stormfury said, observing Harry's tired expression. Harry turned and left.

'I never wanted this to happen,' Harry thought as he slowly made his way up the stairs to his room. 'I never wanted to be the Boy-who-Lived, the Daemonslayer, the Champion of Gryffindor or any of these meaningless titles.' He made his way to bed, where he tried, and failed to, drown out the voice of the ghostly woman, ringing in his thoughts.


	4. Warrior Code

Chapter 4: Warrior Code

"He stood upon a barren landscape, red skies floating overhead. The air had a distinct metallic taste to it. Water ran foul underfoot, contaminated by something evil. Grasses and plants shrivelled and died. The ghostly moon hung over the land, like a great malevolent eye, hunting for prey. Lightning flashed, illuminating the desolate plain, destroying everything it touched. But he paid little heed to these strange images, for, all around him, were the sights and sounds...of war."

"Cries, screams and bellows mixed with the clash of metal and the howl of spells being fired. Creatures long forgotten, and creatures that should never have been, tore, slashed and hacked at one another, crazed with the lust of battle, and fighting desperately for survival on the blood-drenched field. Fireballs streaked across the sky, detonating amongst enemy regiments. Monstrous creatures charged, crushing anything in their path, dragons and winged nightmares battled for control of the skies, fire blenching from reptilian throats, and twisted legions poured forth, intent on the slaughter."

"In all the chaos, confusion, and mayhem, he could see four figures, battling against impossible odds, features obscured by the dust and the flash of magic. One was dead, life draining out, blood mingling with the soil. Two were fighting, holding off a mass of foes, giving no quarter."

"Finally, the final one stood his ground, battling against a titanic being with a mighty sword. The two combatants hacked and slashed, blasted each other with powerful magic, neither able to best the other."

"As he came near the lone warrior with the sword, battling against the titan, he stopped and saw the warrior's face. The face that would haunt him for all eternity."

"It was his own."

Harry shot up in bed, his body covered in cold sweat. The sound of his panicked breathing filled the room, as he put his head in his hands, and tried to calm himself down. The dream had been so vivid, realistic. 'Could Voldemort be trying to take control of my mind again?' Harry thought, as he wiped sweat from his brow. 'No, it can't be. Unless there's a war going on outside. Besides, I would have felt his presence.' Nevertheless, Harry looked outside his window, just to be sure. 'No. No massive battle.'

He had been the sword-wielding warrior. He had been fighting the titan. But who were the others he saw? What was he fighting in the first place? The questions raced through Harry's mind, as he struggled to comprehend what he had seen. 'I'll have to tell Dumbledore about it. Maybe he knows.'

Harry got dressed, and walked downstairs, where Lupin and Moody were waiting for him. The two looked worn out, lack of sleep clouding their eyes.

Lupin motioned to Harry. "How are you, Harry?" he asked. "Got your trunk packed?"

"Yes." Harry replied. "Where's everybody else?"

"Either at their jobs, or on patrol. Tonks and Stormfury have gone on a mission for Dumbledore. He's gone back to Hogwarts, to prepare."

Harry was confused for a moment. "Prepare what?"

"The wards around the school are being reinforced. They were already strong before, but now nothing will be able to get through without the permission of the Headmaster." Lupin said, grinning. "The wards cover the grounds and the castle itself, so as long as you stay there, you'll be safe."

Mad-eye looked at Harry, his magical eye glowing with eerie light. "The Knight Bus be coming soon to take us to King's Cross. We'll get your stuff, Potter."

Several minutes later, the Knight Bus arrived, and they were on their way. Harry loaded his trunk into a compartment, and sat back, thinking about the prophecy.

'The Daemonslayer.' Harry thought. The second prophecy stated that he would have to kill Voldemort, like in the first, but referred to him by that strange title. 'So it's definite that I have to fight him. Great.'

Then there was the question of the Champions. If he was the Champion of Gryffindor, then who were the others? And what were their special powers? He hadn't read anything about the Founders before, and he heard no mention of any special powers, either.

Frustration boiled within him. 'They're not telling me anything! As for these Shadow Hunters, where did they come from?' A terrifying thought crept over Harry. 'What if they're working for Voldemort? If this Stormfury is a Death Eater agent, the entire Order could be compromised!'

"Lupin," Harry asked, concern evident on his expression, "does Dumbledore know what he is doing? Stormfury is a member of the Order, and we know next to nothing about him, his loyalties, his goals, anything!" he raged. Fortunately, they were the only passengers on the bus, and they were far back enough that Stan Shunpike couldn't hear them.

"Harry, calm down!" Lupin barked. "Dumbledore trusts him, but I understand your concern. Don't worry, he's with us. He'll be training you at Hogwarts."

"Why not you?"

"Unfortunately, Dumbledore wants us to stay at Grimmauld Place. We will be running the Order's operations from there, while Dumbledore runs the school."

Harry tried to calm down. "Alright, then. What's this mission that Stormfury and Tonks went on?"

Lupin frowned. "Last night, Dumbledore went over the contents of the prophecy again. He believes that he has found the identity of the Champion of Ravenclaw, so he sent those two to check it out."

Harry became excited. "Who is it?" he asked, anxious for Lupin's response.

Lupin chuckled. "You'll see, Harry. Just relax. You won't be done much of that at Hogwarts."

With a loud bang, the Knight Bus jerked to a stop in front of King Cross Station. Harry, Lupin and Mad-eye got off, carrying Harry's things between them, as they made there way towards the pillars between Platform's 9 and 10. Harry observed the Muggles walking by, chatting, eating fast food, reading London's daily newspapers, waiting for their trains, totally oblivious to the world that awaited just beyond their sight.

Harry envied them in some ways. They did not have to face the pain of their entire lives being written before them, of being tormented by destinies they couldn't control, of being hunted and hounded by an insane Dark wizard out for revenge... They had normal lives, normal families... The thought brought a tear to Harry's eyes. Now that Sirius was dead, Harry had no relatives, no family. 'I'll beat him for you, Sirius.'

Reaching Platforms 9 and 10, Lupin pushed the trolley towards him. "Have a nice time training, Harry. We'll see you soon." He gave Harry a hug before stepping back.

Moody gestured to Harry. "Constant vigilance, Potter. Constant vigilance. Good luck."

"Thanks, guys." Harry replied. With that, he gripped the handlebar of the trolley tightly, and crossed over the barrier between the Muggle and magical worlds, onto Platform 9 and 3/4.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw the Hogwarts Express, steam hissing and venting around the painted red metal. Unlike the other occasions when Harry had been here, the platform was silent and deserted. The sounds of hooting owls, gossiping students, and running feet were gone.

Harry got on the train, and found himself a compartment. Looking around, he saw no one, and heard only the clank of gears, and the hiss of steam, as the Hogwarts Express began its journey to Hogwarts. By far, this was the most depressing ride to Hogwarts he had been on yet.

"Harry?"

He froze upon hearing that sweet voice. 'It can't be...' Turning around, he saw her. Cho.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight before him. Her raven-black hair reached down to her spine, shiny and luxurious. Her perfectly curved form, and long legs. Her chocolate-brown eyes, shining with life and happiness. Her soft pink lips, calling to Harry like a siren song.

"Cho?" he said, amazed by her presence. "What are you doing here?"

She laughed, a soft, musical sound, as she stepped into the compartment. "The same reason you are, Harry. Training. I'm the Champion of Ravenclaw."

He did a quick-double take. "You know about the prophecy too?"

"Only recently." Cho said. "It certainly was a shock to my parents, two strange wizards showing up at the door, four o'clock in the morning. They were afraid that they were Death Eaters, come to kill us."

She smiled, showing her perfect teeth. "They told my parents that I had been selected for an extra-credit course. I learned about the prophecy after we left for the station. According to it, I'm the flighted one. Marked by the trickster. What about you?"

Harry took a deep breath before answering. "The Daemonslayer."

Cho gasped. "You're the one who has to fight him. Oh, Harry!" Tears began to form in her eyes. With a sigh, she turned away from him. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry..." she repeated, like a mantra.

Wiping away her tears, she faced Harry again. "How long have you known?"

"There have been two prophecies foretelling of this. The first, I learned at the end of last year. I only heard this one last night." Harry replied. "Look, Cho, I'm sorry about last year. I was being an idiot, and a total git, and-"

He was cut off, as Cho put a hand to his lips. "No, Harry. I'm the one who needs to apologize. Please, just hear me out." Cho pleaded, head hung in shame.

"Last year, I was totally broken up about Cedric. I could only concentrate on his death, and as a result, my marks went down, my Quidditch performance suffered, I drove my friends away, and I was horrible to you. I was just so insensitive." She sobbed for a moment, tears of regret spilling out. Not knowing what else to do, Harry put his arms around her, trying to calm her down.

Cho composed herself, taking several deep breaths, and continuing her story. "I once heard someone say, 'We should never care for the dead more than the living.' That was what I was doing, moping and weeping over everything. I am not going to let that happen again. Cedric would have wanted me to get on with my life, not waste away."

At this point, Harry saw in her eyes a strength he had not seen in her before. "I'm with you, Harry. I'll not be the damsel in distress I was before. Whatever happens, I will be fighting alongside you until the end. So, just friends, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No, more then friends, Cho. Friends and allies."

She beamed at this statement. "Thank you. So, we're descendents of the founders. Any idea what that means?"

Harry shook his head. "Some extra powers, but what I don't know. Stormfury has been keeping a tight lid on it."

"Daelin Stormfury? The Shadow Hunter? Yeah, he told me next to nothing too."

"You know about the Shadow Hunters?" Harry questioned.

"No, not much. He seems be very mysterious, all cloak-and-dagger."

"Hopefully, he will tell us something." Harry grumbled. "This air of mystery thing is really starting to piss me off."

Chuckling burst out from the passageway, as Stormfury himself appeared. "Well, Mr Potter, you're certainly curious enough." He entered the compartment, clad in his usual Shadow Hunter attire. "So, what's your first question?"

"Firstly, what's a Shadow Hunter, and how can we trust you?" Harry asked, in an effort to discern Stormfury's motives.

He grinned, almost a feral grin. "To understand the Shadow Hunters, you must understand the nature of our magic."

As they sat down, Stormfury began his tale. "In the late 1700's, an ancient form of magic was revealed in Britain, known by its practitioners as Elementalism. Essentially, this form of magic revolves around the magical energy given off by natural sources, or mana. There is mana everywhere, in the water, the trees, the wind," he said, passing his hand through the air, "and, with the proper training, this mana can be tapped, providing an incredible power source for spells, making it very potent, and powerful."

"Wicked!" Harry said, enthralled by the story.

"Indeed." Stormfury replied. "Although few realized it, Elementalism had been around for centuries, practised by various magical groups since the Dark Ages. Immediately after the Ministry of Magic learned of this power, they began to pressure the practising groups, mainly the Druids of Ireland, into its use. For a moment, it looked as if the standard method of using spells, using wands, would disappear, and a new era of magic would begin."

Cho frowned at this prospect. "Why though?"

"Elementalism is wandless magic, and contains power from the earth. The standard way of using magic has the wizard using the energy within themselves, to cast spells. However, there was a major problem with Elementalism, or rather, the wizards new to it."

Stormfury licked his lips before continuing. "The new Elementalists were reckless, impulsive, and rash with their new-found power. While the original Elementalists were taught their powers over time, and with supervision, the new practitioners delved into it with reckless abandon. They did not have the mental discipline to use it properly. They grew more powerful, but the power was more than they could bear. It slowly drove them mad, and in the end, consumed them."

Harry and Cho sat in horror, enraptured by the fate of the reckless wizards. Stormfury's face turned grim as he related what happened next. "The Ministry banned Elementalism from that day forth. They tried to stop it from being used, or taught again, but they didn't realize that, to the original practising tribes, it was more than just a way of casting spells. It was their heritage, their culture, to be in harmony with the forces of nature, and use its power to aid them! So, as the first Muggle colonists went to the New World, the Elementalists hid amongst them. Upon their landing in what is now Canada, the Elementalists created an independent magical government, the Council of Gaea. This system is in effect today, and our civilization has reached new heights of splendour."

He paused for a moment. "The Shadow Hunters were created to defend our new nation against outside threats. We, like much of our civilization, are Elementalists, and we fight against the Darkness, in all of its forms. And as for your second question, you'll just have to trust me."

Cho interrupted him for a moment. "But why haven't we heard about it before? Elementalism? You would think that there would some record of it remaining."

Stormfury laughed. "I can see why you are the Champion of Ravenclaw, Ms Chang." Cho blushed at the comment, as he continued. "Because the Ministry had banned the use and teaching of Elementalism, the knowledge of it disappeared from Britain after a few generations. Combined with a Ministry edict banning Elementalism from being mentioned in any written context, people soon forgot."

"Are everyone Elementalists in magical Canada?" Cho asked.

"Everyone receives some basic training in Elementalism, but the majority use wand magic. Elementalism is mainly used by the Shadow Hunters, and several other key groups in the government."

"Are there any Elementalists left in Britain?" Harry queried.

"Other than me, only one. Professor Dumbledore. He has special permission from the Ministry to use it, but I'm, technically, a criminal in their eyes. If they found out about me, they would probably cart me off to the Ministry for interrogation and detention."

"Then how are you able to train us at Hogwarts, with the Ministry breathing down your neck?"

"Dumbledore has convinced the Ministry to not interfere with the workings of the school, or its staff. Luckily for me, the position of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher is open, so I'll be teaching you throughout the year, as well as this summer."

"Great!" Cho shouted.

"I don't know though. Teaching a bunch of snot-nosed rugrats isn't my exactly my cup of tea."

The two Champions smiled. "Don't worry, Professor." Cho sarcastically retorted. "Us snot-nosed rugrats aren't all that bad, once you get to know us."

"Well, if that's it, I take my leave---What is it, Mr Potter?"

Harry stopped him for a moment. "One last question." he asked.

Stormfury frowned in discontent. "Very well then. Let's have it."

"The prophecy says that we are descendants of the Founders, and as such, we have some increased powers. What are they?" Harry asked, greedy for an answer.

Stormfury shook his head. "That, we do not know. Dumbledore has been reading over some old texts within the school library, in hopes of finding an answer. Sorry, Mr. Potter." With that, he left, cloak swirling out behind him.

Several hours later, Harry, Cho and Stormfury sat in the school carriage, at it made its way to Hogwarts. Stormfury spoke to the young witch and wizard as they went past the lake, the tentacles of the giant squid waving above the waters. "Upon our arrival, make your way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts hallway, and go into the second classroom on the left. Your luggage will be brought up to your respective dormitories."

"What about you?" Harry asked, dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, Cho likewise.

"I have some business to attend to with the Headmaster. Don't worry, I won't be long."

The carriage stopped at the main gates of Hogwarts, and the three exited the carriage, Stormfury heading up to the Headmaster's office, Harry and Cho moving to the classroom. Walking through the halls, Cho pointed towards the suits of armour positioned on either side of every doorway. "It's like they're guarding the school," Cho said.

"They probably are," Harry pointed out, "as part of the new defences. They're most likely enchanted to attack any intruders."

"So," Harry asked. "How are you and Michael doing?"

"Pretty good." Cho replied. Harry's heart felt heavy at this statement. 'Well, Harry. She's with another guy now. Just move on.'

"Second class on the left, here we are!" Harry exclaimed, motioning towards the classroom. As they stood in front of the door, they noticed two swords, lying crossed on the ground, blocking the doorframe.

"What do you think these mean?" Cho wondered aloud, examining the elliptical patterns carved into the blade. "Maybe we'll be training with them, you guess?" she asked.

"Probably." Harry replied, as a shiver run down his body. Something didn't feel right. "We should take them with us."

The two Champions grabbed the swords, and were immediately shocked. The blades were fairly long, about two feet, but they were as light as daggers. Harry touched the flat of the blade, and felt his fingers go numb for a moment as they made contact. The bright metal shone with an unnatural gleam.

"Weird. I've never seen a weapon like this before." Cho commented, as she pointed towards the door. "Shall we?"

Harry grinned. "Yes. Let's."

With a single push of the knob, the door opened, Harry and Cho rushed through, swords at the ready into the Forbidden Forest.

'The Forbidden Forest? How the hell did we get here!' Harry thought, seeing the gnarled tree trunks and shadowy ferns of the Forest around them, and feeling the rocky dirt beneath their feet. Mist began to form within the groves of trees.

"Harry." Cho voice cut through the fog like a knife. "We're in the Forbidden Forest, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are. How did we get here? Portkey, maybe?" Harry said, readying his blade.

Cho shook her head, as panic crept into her voice. "No. We would have felt it, as we were teleporting. Let's try to get back to the castle, and sort this mess out. Lumos!" she cried, raising her wand. Turning around, to their horror, the door was gone.

Wands out, the pair quietly made their way through the Forest, staying on the overgrown and dusty path. The light from Cho's wand seemed pitiful compared the darkness that lay around, threatening to swallow them in impenetrable blackness. The Forest was quiet, the silence broken only by Harry snapping twigs underfoot, and the eerie moan of the wind, whispering through the branches that hung overhead.

Suddenly, Harry heard a noise in the distance. He motioned for Cho to stop, as he readied his wand and sword, and tried to pick up the sound. Then, he heard it, a skittering sound, like the sound of rain falling on a wooden roof, or the running of many feet...

"Oh, damn." Harry stated, almost deadpan.

"What!" Cho shrieked, caught in the tension of the moment.

"Run. RUN!"

Harry and Cho ran, climbing over massive roots, skirting rocks and hills. From behind them, branches snapped, foliage was ripped down, and a ghostly screech pierced the haunting tranquility of the woods.

The two reached a hill, a dead tree on top, and with no way around it, they began to climb up. Harry grabbed Cho's hand, helping her up the slope, as the pursuer smashed through the trees, and caught up with their prey. Cho screamed in horror as eight black, soulless eyes stared up at her, eight massive hairy legs skittered in rage, and a pair of mandibles with the power to crush a Mini snapped, clacking in greedy anticipation of the feast to come.

"Aragog." Harry whispered in terror.

The giant spider howled, charging up the slope. "Fresh meat for my children!" the bloated monstrosity cried, scrabbling towards them.

Harry pushed Cho out of Aragog's path, and dodged away himself. "STUPEFY!" Harry shouted, sending the Stunning Curse into Aragog's thorax. The curse hit, but Aragog shrugged it aside. Harry could hear Cho firing as well, and redoubled his efforts to stop the giant spider.

"STUPEFY!"

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Aragog held his ground for a moment, confused by the curses flying from two different directions. He looked around, as if deciding which of the students to attack first, when one of his eyes saw Harry.

"YOU!" The beast bellowed in rage, and ignoring Cho entirely, stormed towards Harry, ripping up the soil in his haste to kill the young wizard. Harry froze for a moment, seeing the giant arachnid charging, powerful jaws ready to break him in half.

"Harry! MOVE!" Cho ordered, readying her sword.

Her voice snapped Harry out off his trance, and he ran towards the great tree on the hill, jumping into a massive borehole. Aragog followed, smashing into the tree, maddened with rage, trying to tear Harry out with his jaws, but Harry was too far in, and the eight-legged behemoth couldn't reach him. He moved back for a moment, and raised one of his legs, preparing to skewer Harry and drag him out from the tree. Harry raised his wand.

"ACRONEUTRALA!"

A jet of liquid, milky white in colour, hit Aragog in the eyes, burning and steaming. He screamed in agony, trying to wipe the smile from his eyes, while several of his legs stabbed the tree, in an attempt to kill Harry. Bark shattered, as the spider's powerful limbs ripped up the tree.

Suddenly, with a mighty battle cry, Cho was there, on top of Aragog, slashing and hacking wildly with her blade, her silky black hair flying wildly. The spider howled in pain and frustration, whirling around, trying to dislodge the beautiful Ravenclaw from her back. Stubbornly, Cho grasped a patch of spiky hair, and held on for dear life.

"CHO!" Harry screamed, charging towards the spider. And that's when Harry felt it. A presence within him, a deep, sluggish power, like a great beast that was awaking from a long sleep. It was strange, yet comforting at the same time. For a moment, he was entranced by it, like a child in his mother's embrace.

Cho raised her blade, and with a howl, thrust it into Aragog's skull. The giant spider spasmed, and fell still, crashing to the ground.

Cho sat there, breathing heavily, wiping spider gunk off her sword. "Well, that was unusual. Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, moving to comfort him.

Harry blushed as she put her arms around him. "Yeah, I'm okay. Now let's get back to Hogwarts."

"Go back, Harry? Your already here."

With a single command, the Forbidden Forest, the grass, and the carcass of Aragog dematerialized, leaving only the stone walls and floor of the classroom.

Stormfury was at the doorway, smiling. "Congratulations, Mr Potter, Ms Chang. You've past the first test."


	5. Kindling Flames

"Love is the highest achievement to which any human may aspire. It is an emotion that encompasses the full depth of heart, mind, and soul." _Zensunni Wisdom, from Dune: House Harkonnen_

**Chapter 5: Kindling Flames**

Harry and Cho looked at Stormfury incredulously as he entered the classroom. "This chamber has been altered with powerful magic. The moment you entered it, an image of the Forbidden Forest was projected into your mind. Nothing was real, only you, and the blades you carried. A simulation, really, that can be programmed and shut off with a word."

Cho stared at the Shadow Hunter like he had sprouted an extra head. "This was all just a test!"

"Yes, it was. And you passed it. Don't worry, you weren't in any real danger. The simulation is good, but illusion can't break the laws of nature. If you had been bitten by the illusionary Aragog, you would have fallen unconscious, but woken up unharmed."

Harry paused to catch his breath before asking, "You could have warned us, damn spider scared us half to death!"

Stormfury smiled. "Would you have fought as well, knowing that is was only a trick?" he asked, a look of surprise on his face. "Regardless, that was a good use of tactics, for a reduced difficultly level. In real life, Aragog would be smarter, and brought some of his children along for the party."

Harry wiped sweat off his brow. "What's next, Professor?"

"For now, you can head to your dormitories and rest. Tomorrow though, your training speeds up. You'll learn a variety of duelling spells, the use of weapons, physical training, and, if you're skilled enough, some wandless magic."

"Really?" Cho asked, her face alight with excitement.

"Really. You can head up to your dormitories now. Tomorrow, be prepared to train like never before."

Harry and Cho exited the classroom, still reeling from the simulator. "Are you alright, Harry?" Cho asked, her beautiful eyes reflecting concern.

Harry shook his head. "Cho, while we were fighting Aragog in there, I felt something inside me."

"What was it?" Cho asked, voice filled with worry.

"It was a power, a strange, unknown, power. It seemed to react to Aragog's presence, even if he was just an illusion."

"Amazing." Cho said, staring at Harry intently. "I think I felt it too."

"What?"

"Well, not exactly like what you felt. It was calm, and gentle. A peaceful presence, really, that made me feel safe. Of course, you we're there too." Cho replied.

Harry blushed at the comment. "Well, thanks. You weren't bad back there, with the sword. Where did you-?"

"I'm glad to see you've arrived, Harry." Professor Dumbledore interrupted, appearing from the other end of the hall, motioning towards Harry. "If you'll excuse us, Ms. Chang, Harry and I have some private matters to discuss."

Cho nodded, turning to leave. "Of course, Professor. I'll see you around, then, Harry."

As Harry watched her retreating form, Dumbledore turned to him. "So, Harry, how was training?"

"Interesting. Professor, when I was fighting back there, I felt the strangest feeling." Dumbledore's face became grim as Harry described the power he had felt fighting against the illusionary Aragog. When he had finished, Dumbledore stood there for a moment, as if trying to understand what he had just heard.

"The energies of Gryffindor. Harry, what you felt was a remnant of Godric Gryffindor's powers. He was an incredibly powerful and skilled wizard, and it seems that some of his abilities have been transferred to his descendants over the centuries. If what you have described is accurate, then it seems to have awakened."

"Is it a danger, Professor? I mean, well, such power! How can I hope to control it?"

"That is one of the reasons that Daelin is here. The energies of Gryffindor, in order to be used, require much concentration and willpower, like Elementalism. Hopefully, he can teach you to channel these energies into a useful, and controlled form."

"I don't think I can do it, Professor. Kill Voldemort. He's too powerful, and if I kill him, what makes me different from him?"

"Power is a relative thing, Harry. You have stopped him before, because the power was within you. As to your second point, do you want to kill him?"

"No. But, I have too. For me, Sirius, and everyone else."

Dumbledore smiled. "That is what makes you different from him, Harry. Voldemort kills for all of the wrong reasons. Power, greed, pleasure. You have not killed yet, but, should you strike the final blow against Voldemort, you will do it for friendship, and justice, and honour. All very Gryffindor traits." Dumbledore replied, a commanding tone in his voice.

"Speaking of Sirius, Harry, I have good news for you. The Ministry of Magic has begun a judicial review, investigating a breach of justice regarding his case. It will be quite extensive, as the Wizengemot and senior Ministry officials will be involved."

Harry snorted. "What use is it? A review won't bring him back," he muttered angrily. "And besides, Fudge will probably stall the procedures, and bribe the officials. Nothing will be accomplished!"

"Perhaps. However, Fudge has lost much of his influence and respect in the Ministry, now that Voldemort has openly shown himself. Many workers at the Ministry, and the general public, are showing signs of discontent about his leadership. The important thing is, if the review succeeds, Sirius will be pardoned."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Pardoned! What good will that do!" he shouted, cursing Ministry incompetence.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, ignoring his outburst, "if he is pardoned, posthumously, of course, then his estate will be released by the Ministry, and the charges will be cleared. As I know, Sirius left much of his estate to you, Harry, his heir apparent."

Harry stood there in shock for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was full of emotion as he choked the words out. "Will you need me to testify?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry, you should continue with your training. Don't worry, his name will be cleared."

"Thank you." All thoughts of discussing his dream pushed aside, Harry retired to Gryffindor Tower, to rest for the intense training that would be coming.

* * *

A routine was established, one that Harry and Cho would follow for the next few weeks. Rising at five, they would change into training gear, and then Stormfury would lead them into a tough training regime. Firstly, a two and a half kilometre run around the Hogwarts grounds, followed by a session of deep mediation by the lake. When Harry asked him about this, Stormfury responded, "In order to fight the Darkness, one must have discipline, as well as strength and skill. The run clears your mind, and improves your endurance. Mediating allows you to obtain mental discipline, so as to clearly see your goals, and focus your energies." Harry felt stupid at first, but as he began to mediate, he immediately saw the benefits coming through.

After the mediation session, the Champions would have a light breakfast, and move on to weapons training. There, Stormfury would instruct them in the use and tactics of a multitude of close combat weapons, like European broadswords, Arabian scimitars, Japanese katanas, various spears, pikes, halberds, battle-axes, daggers, and quarterstaffs. Harry and Cho also were taught how to use ranged weapons, including longbows, crossbows, and javelins.

Stormfury taught the two Champions in swordplay, how to block and parry enemy blows, how to turn their weapon against them, techniques for attack and defence, for defeating multiple opponents. The Shadow Hunter was well versed in weapons lore, and often challenged them in impromptu duels. "When fighting in a real duel, against real opponents," Stormfury told them, "the enemy will not respect the traditions and etiquette of duelling. Therefore, neither should you. Use whatever means available to incapacitate your opponent, spells, weapons, objects lying around, your hands, feet, anything you can."

"Secondly, always watch your opponent's wand, not the hand holding it. The wand can be used in either hand, and can be deadlier than the hand."

Lunch would follow then the Champions would take part in spell training. This consisted mainly of duelling, as Stormfury taught them many new and powerful curses, hexes and jinxes, like the Scythios Curse, which sent a sharp blade flying against an opponent, inflicting deep cuts, and the Fumbus Jinx, which turned all of an opponent's fingers into thumbs for a short period of time. Often times, Harry and Cho were called upon to test their skills in the Simulation Room, against illusionary opponents, mainly Death Eaters. On average, Harry would be involved in six duels a day, with spells or weapons, assuming he wasn't too badly injured.

Finally, when Harry and Cho were almost totally exhausted, they would begin the hardest part of the day. With aching limbs, tired eyes, and sour hands, they would study Elementalism on a theoretical level. The young spellcasters learned how to tap mana, and how to use this mana to cast spells. The process required an incredible amount of patience and concentration, something that after several hours of intense training, Harry didn't always have.

Besides their massive training, Harry learned two important things. Firstly, Stormfury was not Umbridge. He was a real Defence Against the Darks Arts teacher, with actual experience fighting Death Eaters and Dark creatures. He listened to their ideas, and was always willing to help out.

Secondly, Harry and Cho became much closer, although they were still not going out. While they sat in the library, studying what they had learned, or in the Great Hall, where Cho practiced for her upcoming Apparation test, they talked with each other, mainly about Quidditch, and what they would do when they graduated, Harry an Auror, Cho a Healer, or Seeker for a professional Quidditch team. As time went on, Harry and Cho got to know more about each other than when they were dating.

Unfortunately, three problems existed. Firstly, after the first day, Harry barely saw Dumbledore anymore, to ask him about how the war was progressing. Members of the Hogwarts staff, or the hidden entrance denied Harry access to his office every time he went to see him. Secondly, Harry and Cho had little contact with the outside world, as the Order had blocked all communications from their friends. Although the two Champions could send letters, they had to be checked over, to edit out any sensitive information. Even the Daily Prophet, although the mouthpiece of the Ministry of Magic, wasn't getting through. Finally, the problem of Harry's feelings for Cho.

He still cared for her. When they were down in the library, and Cho was talking about how she and Michael were doing, his heart felt the pangs of sorrow. 'Why did I have to leave her?' he thought, eyeing her beautiful features and perfect skin. Harry tried to bury his feelings, but, upon seeing her shining raven-black hair, her perfect teeth, and her beautiful frame, they rose up within him, almost breaking through.

And it wasn't just physical beauty that attracted Harry to her. Her mind was a sharp as a knife, and she was always ready to assist Harry when he needed help. She was compassionate, caring, intelligent, helpful, funny. In essence, she was perfect. And he had to be a git, and let her pass by.

* * *

"Again, Potter!"

The clash of steel on wood could be heard, as Harry swung his broadsword at Stormfury, only to have it parried by the reinforced wooden sword of the Shadow Hunter. Both of the combatants were covered in sweat from the day's exertions. Behind them, Cho watched, sword in hand, waiting for the signal to move in.

Harry grasped the hilt with both hands, and slashed at Stormfury's head. Stormfury blocked the blow with his own blade, inches from his neck, than kicked Harry in the stomach. The young wizard went sprawling, clutching his belly, out of the fight.

"Chang! Forward!"

Cho charged in, thrusting her katana towards the Shadow Hunter's belly, only to have him dodge the blow, and smack Cho in the shoulder. She stepped back for a moment, and then pressed her attack, slashing and cutting at her opponent with the finely balanced sword. Stormfury easily dodged or blocked these attacks, and kicked at Cho's side. The Ravenclaw beauty, prepared for this move, loosened her grip on the katana, and used her forearm to deflect the blow, while crouching down and delivering a kick to his midsection.

The Shadow Hunter grunted as he took the blow. With barely a sound, he bashed Cho's sword hand with his reinforced wooden blade, and kicked the hilt of the katana, sending it flying towards the ceiling.

Cho looked up, her eyes following the path of the shining blade as it whistled through the air. A big mistake, as Stormfury kicked her in the chest, knocking her off her feet. Finally, Stormfury caught the sword before it fell, and pointed the shining blade at Cho's throat.

Stormfury chuckled. "A good improvement, both of you. Anyone seriously hurt?"

Throughout the summer, Harry and Cho had suffered injuries during their training, from the minor, to those that required a stay at the Hospital Wing, like when Harry had been on the receiving end of one of Cho's Blasting Curses, without a shield. Cho had wept over that incident, but Harry forgave her. "Don't worry, Cho, I needed to fulfill my Hospital Wing quota this month, anyway!" he had said, which brought laughs to her pretty face.

"No, nothing major, Professor." Harry responded, rubbing his stomach.

Stormfury pulled the sword away, and handed it hilt first back to Cho. "Very well then. I think that's enough for now. Perhaps some wandless magic?" He pulled a torch off of its wall bracket. "No theory this time. From what I've seen, you're ready to actually tap mana. Fire is the simplest of the elements, so perhaps we should try that first."

With a muttered command, the torch exploded into flame, and hovered several feet above the floor, the fire a deep red colour, dancing and twisting like a living being. Harry and Cho sat as Stormfury reviewed the process with them. "Remember, you must maintain discipline while attempting to tap mana. Clear your mind of all other thoughts, and picture the flame. Picture what it represents, picture the energy flowing through you. Remember the words of power!"

"Mana is omnipresent, but when beginning their training, apprentice Shadow Hunters require a corporal source to draw from, hence, this fire. Fully- trained Shadow Hunters can tap any form of mana from any destination, but, for now, just try to manipulate the flame in front of you."

Stormfury's voice became harsh at this point, observing the two Champions with a steel-cold gaze. "It is vital that you focus! Do not lose your concentration! Elementalism, in any form, is volatile. I am letting you attempt this because you are skilled, disciplined, and determined. Harry, you're first."

Harry swallowed nervously, his legs feeling like jelly, as he approached the fire. He assumed a lotus position before the flame, trying to clear his mind for the task ahead of him.

He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, gazing into the roaring fire, trying to focus and channel the flames, but to no avail. His efforts had just led to a massive headache as he struggled in vain to tap the energy.

"This isn't working." Harry stated, massaging his temples.

"Peace, Mr. Potter." Stormfury said, trying to encourage him. "Perhaps you are not ready yet for this exercise. Maybe we should-"

"With all due respect, Professor, I'm not finished trying." Harry interjected, frustration oozing from every pore. "I'll keep at it."

Stormfury frowned. "Very well then. You may continue."

"Be careful, Harry." Cho said, watching with obvious concern as Harry began again.

Harry pictured the flame in his mind's eye. He imagined the fire in the Gryffindor common room, crackling gently, making the room cozy. He pictured the sun, its warm embrace upon his skin. He saw fire, giver of both life and death, capable of aiding and destroying, useful if controlled, chaotic if unleashed.

A red nimbus formed around Harry's hands, gently floating sparks, then becoming more energetic as the ritual continued. Faster and faster they moved, spinning around his hands like electrons around an atom, constantly gaining power with each moment that passed. Sweat dripped down his face, as he chanted the words of power, phrases that no human tongue was meant to pronounce.

With a rush of energy, the torch flared bright, the flames expanding and growing. Harry's eyes widened as the fire coalesced itself in his hands, yet did not burn. He felt the mana sliding across his skin, its touch filling him with power.

"Amazing." Harry's voice sounded hollow as he stared into the flame. Whispers echoed in the back of his mind, "yes, feel the power. Take it for your own."

Stormfury watched Harry intently as the young wizard stood up, searching for any sign of weakness. "Remember, Harry. Concentrate. Keep it under..."

The words stopped dead in his throat, as Harry let out a scream of agony, and brought his hands to his head. Blood dripped from his scar, dark as coal. Harry dropped to his knees, eyes closed, as if to block out something...

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" With that, Harry lost control.

Flames erupted from his fingertips, burning a trail of destruction through the room, Harry flailing in pain, his harsh cries ringing through the halls of Hogwarts. Stormfury tackled Cho to the ground as the fire lanced to where her head would have been.

"Harry. HARRY!" Cho's screams barely registered on the young wizard's mind, consumed by the pain and the power. Sweat poured down his body, muscles tensed, veins bulged, power pouring through him, draining him of his strength. Stone shattered, parchment combusted and burned to ash, painting and tapestries incinerated as the fire consumed everything in its path.

"That's it. Release the power. Claim it for your own!" The voice was back again, urging and cajoling Harry to continue, to fuel the flames, to unleash it. Harry tried to concentrate, to bring the flames in check, but they were free now, and nothing would stop them. He could hear Cho's screams of panic, and Stormfury's booming voice telling him to focus, but he heard nothing. He was in its thrall, loving and hating every instant.

"Where are you, Potter?" A second voice, sinuous and terrifying. "I sense the magic. Perhaps I should have a look inside your mind, see your secrets. Perhaps you know more about the prophecy? Let's check, shall we?"

Tears formed in Harry's eyes. "No. Please, no." he whimpered.

With a final rush of energy, the fire died, and Harry collapsed, his body wracked with convulsions. Cho and Stormfury rushed over to his side.

"Can you help him?" Cho asked, biting her lip until blood flowed.

"Hold on." Stormfury replied, placing his hands over Harry's chest. With a muttered phrase, Harry's spasms faded, and the Champion fell into a deep sleep.

"Here, girl. Go to Madame Pomfrey, and tell to prepare for an injured student. Hurry!"

As Cho ran towards the Hospital Wing, Stormfury conjured a stretcher for the fallen student, shaking his head at seeing the devastation around him. "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway."

* * *

Cho Chang walked through the halls, her boots clacking on the floorstones, torches glimmering around her. She pulled her shining hair into a ponytail as she mused on what had happened. Harry had tapped the power of fire, but lost control suddenly. 'It was like he was fighting something within him.' She felt the power emanating from him as he released the mana, like a raging animal. She shuddered despite herself. Elementalism was powerful indeed, but volatile. Too volatile, it had seemed, the image of Harry's shaking form coming to mind, drained by the energy the spell had used.

Harry had been brought up to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey went into a frenzy, grabbing potions and vials to treat him. Cho had been shooed out by the often-commanding Pomfrey, but she managed to catch a glimpse of Harry's face, pale, sweating, flushed, his eyes closed, but moving, and murmured phrases spoken in terrified tones.

Turning the corner, she crashed into the cloaked form of Stormfury, staff held tight in his scarred grip. "Oh, Professor, I didn't see you! Is Harry going to be alright?" she apologized, getting back to her feet. "It's just that, well, I was worried about how he was doing, and that magic, was like- "

Stormfury chuckled. "Slow down, girl! Yes, Harry is going to be fine. A little drained, but in a day or two, he should back on his feet." He rubbed his stomach where Cho had collided into him. "I fear that I greatly over- estimated his abilities in wandless magic, no disrespect intended. Perhaps we should leave that for now, and continue with wand magic and weapons as soon as he gets better."

Cho nodded in agreement. "The casting process took a lot out of him. Harry seemed very drained after the ordeal."

"Once again, Ms. Chang, your inquisitiveness amazes me!" Stormfury laughing. "Don't take the wrong way."

"Not at all, although Harry's friend Hermione is the one you should look out for. She's sometimes more of a Ravenclaw than me."

"I'll look forward to seeing her this year. Anyway, you're right. When he lost control of the spell, Harry's body could not stand the strain being place upon it to fuel the spell. Elementalism requires intense concentration, and casting in that manner, after a time, becomes exhausting. In battle, Shadow Hunters such as myself must attempt to conserve our energy as much as possible. Over time, we've gained incredible stamina, but it's still tasking."

Cho frowned. 'Even the Shadow Hunters have their limits?' She hadn't seen Stormfury in action yet, other than mock sword duels against her and Harry, but from what she had heard, he would be a deadly enemy to cross.

"Anything else, Ms. Chang?"

She shook her head tersely. "No, Professor. Thanks for explaining."

"Not a problem. Harry might be awake this afternoon, so you can go visit him then."

Cho smiled, the Shadow Hunter had seen right through her. "Thanks, Professor."

Continuing on her way, she stopped in front of a large stone triangle, chiselled into the wall of an upper hallway. With a word, the triangle split open, revealing a hidden passage into Ravenclaw Tower. Entering the seventh-year girls dorm, Cho sat in front of a large wooden desk, parchment, ink and a quill laid out for her. A soft hoot beside her informed her of the presence of Bellerophon, her faithful black-and-grey spotted owl whom she had purchased before the summer.

"No, Belle. There's just something I need to do."

She had her regrets, namely the way she had acted last year. But now, she had a purpose, a goal. She had spent too long listening to others, and not herself, always putting her doubts ahead of her. But no longer.

And dripping her quill in ink, she began to write.

* * *

Several hours later, Cho entered the Hospital Wing, with the last rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. The Wing was empty, save for Harry's bed. He was tossing and turning, as if re-living some horrible event, his brow bathed in sweat. Occasionally, Cho heard the words, "no, not Cedric," and, "Sirius can't be, no, he can't be gone, he can't."

Spotting a basin of clean water, Cho immersed a small cloth, and went to Harry's side. She applied the cloth his sweating face, racked with the pain of his nightmares. "Come on, Harry, snap out of it." Brushing a stray lock of hair from her vision, she continued to watch over him, two figures, alone in the darkness.

* * *

'He stood there again, on the blackened field. He saw them there. Cedric. Sirius. His parents. Cho. Anyone he had ever loved, anyone who had called him friend, anyone he had looked up to. They lay there, upon the field, dead, torn apart by wild beasts, blasted with curses. As far as the eye could see.

Harry looked down at his hands. The wind picked up around him, as he saw the blood upon his hands. The blood of his friends.

He began to shake, then a furious, terrified scream ripped from his throat, as the power within him came to life once more.'

* * *

Harry shot up in bed, crying out. Cho shrieked in shock, seeing Harry come awake so suddenly. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his head, comforting him softly. "It's alright now. It's alright."

Surprisingly, Harry returned the gesture. "I'm okay, Cho. Just dreams, nightmares really." He looked at her like seeing her for the first time. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just checking up on you." Cho replied. "You've been asleep for about ten hours now."

Harry shook his head. "No, not really asleep. It's Voldemort, Cho. This scar," he stated, pointing at the lightning-shaped mark, "is not the only thing he left me with. Somehow, we share some kind of mental connection. Voldemort often tries to search my mind, and send images. Sometimes, what he shows actually happens. Other times, well, I think, well-" He stopped for a moment, caught up in emotion. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid! Sirius would still be alive if you weren't so stupid!'

He felt Cho's hand upon his shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. Just let it out."

And that was what he did. It was like a dam opening in his soul, as Harry spilled out all of the secrets, doubts, and fears that he had held inside. In-between sobs, Harry related the events of last year to Cho, how Voldemort was attempting to control his mind, how his attempts at Occlumency had failed, how a false vision of Sirius being tortured led to the furious duel in the Department of Mysteries, and his death, how the first prophecy had to him to kill or be killed... At this point, Harry choked up.

"Sirius Black was your godfather?" Cho asked, her soothing voice calming Harry's shattered nerves.

"Yes. He was betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, and sent to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. Without trial."

Cho was silent as Harry continued. "I know the pain you felt when you lost Cedric, and I'm sorry for being such a jerk last year. You were right to dump me, Cho. Michael's a much better person than I was. He's right for you. He's-"

"-not the one I love."

Harry looked at Cho like she had confessed to being a Death Eater. "What!" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He's not the one I love Harry. It is you, and it has always been you. Since Cedric died, you have tried to be there for me, tried to help me move on, but I never appreciated it. I love you." And with that, she kissed him.

The sensation was incredible, Cho's soft lips joining with Harry's. In that instant, Harry's doubts and misgivings were washed away, the constant fear defeated, and the feelings of loathing he felt for her last year were obliterated, all in one simple act. He pulled her into a warm embrace, feeling the soft weave of her hair, inhaling the gentle scent of her perfume, intoxicated by her touch. He returned the kiss, deepening it, sparks of passion running through them, setting their souls aflame, the tenderness of their love driving them wild.

Their lips broke apart for a moment, only out of need for air. Then, they kissed again, harder and more passionate than ever before. The kiss they shared that December night last year was nothing compared to now. Cho moaned in her mouth as the kiss continued, feeling Harry's love, and the energies of Ravenclaw, possessing her.

The power contained within them spiked for a moment, rejuvenating them, and impacting the room. A bowl full of flower petals crackled and exploded, curtains blew as if caught in a fierce wind, several glass vials shattered, and portrait frames rattled. It was over in an instant, but the kiss lasted for several minutes more.

Finally, they broke apart, invigorated by each other's touch. Harry lightly caressed her cheek with his hand, and kissed her there, feeling Cho shudder in delight. "I love you, Cho Chang. I love you with every fibre of my being. But what about Michael?" he asked, dreading the answer, wrapped lovingly in her arms.

"Michael doesn't care about me, Harry, and especially not as the person I am. He wants me just as a trophy, to hang on his arm and show the guys, and, if he gets a chance, take me into his bed. He doesn't care that I'm good in Quidditch, or that I try to get good marks, or that I am constantly pressured by friends and family to do what they want me to do. That's why I don't, and can't, love him."

"But, you will be in danger by being with me, Cho. Voldemort wants me dead, and he won't hesitate to kill you to get to me. Are you sure you want to the risk?"

Cho's eyes flashed with anger. "We could be killed at any time, Harry. The Death Eaters could be anywhere. Besides, if they ever learned about the Champions prophecy, they'd come after me just the same. No, Harry. I will stay with you, if you want. Do you love me?" she asked, her shining, chocolate brown eyes looking at Harry with obvious caring and love.

"Yes. I do, Cho. Forgive me." Harry whispered as he kissed her again.

"MR. POTTER! WHAT IS THIS?" Madam Pomfrey's booming voice sounded as she entered the Hospital Wing. "I will not have this kind of behaviour in my infirmary. Out! Out!"

Harry and Cho exited the Hospital Wing, running like a pack of dogs were chasing them. "Well, that was interesting!" Cho said, as the two lovers ran through the halls, hand in hand, to escape Pomfrey's wrath.


	6. Celebrations and Confrontations

**Chapter 6: Celebrations and Confrontations**

Harry sighed as he sat on his bed. _Cho._ The strawberry taste of her kisses still lingered on his lips, and his skin burned with the promise of her touch. And the rush of energy he felt when they had kissed, the energies of Gryffindor twisting within him like a hungry beast, pacing around in anticipation of a meal.

Shortly after they had left the Hospital Wing, running through the halls to avoid Filch, Cho had grabbed him, and pulled him to one side, her sweet perfume and the heat of her body enveloping Harry. She looked into his cutting emerald eyes with her sweet chocolate-brown ones, her voice husky with excitement and ardour. "I'll see you around, Harry." Kissing him hard on the mouth, she had run off towards Ravenclaw Tower, her boots sounding on the floorstones with staccato clacks, her shining raven-black hair flying behind her like a comet.

Harry lay down on the sheets, Cho's words echoing in his mind. _I love you, Harry._ For weeks, he had dreaded that she had hated him, and, in her heart, had never truly forgiven him for the events of last year. His heart flew with the feeling of her kisses, his pulse raced was they ran through the halls, hand in hand.

"I love you too, Cho." Harry whispered into the dark, wiping the tears running down his face. He saw her beautiful face. He touched her smooth skin.

He was a fool for leaving her. He was a fool for hating her in the fifth year. He was a fool for not understanding.

He was a fool.

* * *

Harry awoke to the first rays of sunlight beaming through his window. Tossing the covers aside, as he put on his glasses and got ready for another day of training, he felt a slight pain in his chest. _Guess I haven't totally recovered from the accident,_ he thought, applying a minor healing spell to the wound.

It was at this point that Harry saw the letter on his bedside table, in a creamy white envelope. After a quick Scanning Charm to make sure no poisons or jinxes were contained, he opened the letter, staring in amazement at his OWL results.

_Mr. Harry James Potter_

_Gryffindor __Tower_

_Hogwarts __School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Enclosed are your OWL results: _

· _Care of Magical Creatures: EE_

· _Transfiguration: EE_

· _Charms: O_

· _Potions: O_

· _Astronomy: A_

· _Defence Against the Dark Arts: O_

· _Divination: P_

· _Herbology: EE_

· _History of Magic: D_

_For next term, you may select from 5-8 of the following courses:_

· _NEWT-level Defence Against the Dark Arts_

· _NEWT-level Charms_

· _NEWT-level Potions_

· _NEWT-level Transfiguration_

· _NEWT-level Herbology_

· _NEWT-level Care of Magical Creatures_

· _NEWT-level Astronomy_

_Note that students in their 6th and 7th years will attend Defence Against the Dark Arts classes together, to help maintain NEWT-level standards in this course. _

_Inform your Head of House of your selections by August 30th._

_Enjoy your summer holidays!_

_Grinda Marshbanks_

_Department of Testing and Educational Standards_

Harry looked at the results, stunned by how well he did. _7 OWLs!_ Wiping the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and cleaning his glasses, he reread the letter as if expecting the grades to change.

_How in the world did I do so well?_ Harry thought. Defence Against the Dark Arts was a cinch, having fought Dark wizards and led the DA. Transfiguration and Charms were alright, as he had studied and practiced extensively in those courses. The other courses seemed to be right, but Potions was the major shock. Harry knew that he had to get an O level to enter Snape's NEWT-level class, and then become an Auror, but to actually succeed…

Harry chuckled to himself, picturing Snape's face as he entered the Potions classroom. _He's going to blow a gasket!_ Realizing that Snape would use any opportunity to take away Gryffindor's house points, or kick him out of the class, Harry resolved to work especially hard in Potions. _I'm not going to let Snape get in the way of me becoming an Auror._

Deciding to fill out his course selections later, Harry quickly dressed into training gear, and made his way to the Great Hall, eager for food and conversation. As Harry reached the doors of the Great Hall, he stopped for a moment. The air seemed to grow cold, and unnatural silence reigned throughout the halls. Drawing his wand, Harry listened for a moment, then charged into the darkened Great Hall, wand ready to deal with any threats.

"_Lumos!_"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

The torches of the Great Hall flared to life, illuminating a celebration. Streamers hung from wall brackets and the ceiling overhead, several fireworks went set off, and a large cake sat upon one of the tables, as Cho, Lupin, Tonks and Dumbledore leapt out of hiding.

"Happy birthday, love." Cho said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Like it?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks, so much," he replied, pulling Cho into an embrace.

"Well, it was a good diversion from Order duties, anyway." Lupin said, directing Harry over to one of the tables. "How about some cake?"

The party was a fairly quiet affair, with Harry and Cho discussing their training, Lupin and Tonks joking, and plenty of cake and snacks consumed by the hungry Champions. Harry opened the first present, addressed from Hermione. "I've let the owl post get through to you, Harry, for this special day." Dumbledore said, winking, as Harry pulled out a letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_How has your summer been? Dumbledore has informed us that you are at Hogwarts, but has said little else._

_All of your friends are worried about you, Harry. The Weasleys are especially concerned, and send their condolences about Sirius. Don't blame yourself about his death; blame the Death Eaters. He was a good man, and wanted only the best for you._

_On the 26th, a group of us are going to Diagon Alley to get our school supplies. Perhaps you could join us, if Professor Dumbledore will allow it?_

_Take care of yourself._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

Tearing through the package, Harry found several issues of _Quidditch Illustrated_, the images of Quidditch teams in flight, moving and tossing the Quaffle on the cover. "Thanks, Hermione," he said to himself, taking heart in her words.

His next presents were just as useful and enjoyable. Ron and Ginny had sent him a copy of _Occlumency Made Easy_, to help block out Voldemort's mental assaults, and Fred and George with an entire case of Extendable Ears. Bill had given him a powerful Dark detector, portable enough to put in his robes, Charlie sent a book on various dragon species and social habits, Mad-eye gave him _Advanced Duelling Techniques_, and Tonks brought him a poster showing famous winners of international duelling competitions.

Finally, it was time for Cho's present. With trembling hands, Harry opened the small box, adorned in red and blue gift-wrap. With the whir of tiny wings, a Golden Snitch hovered out, and went flying around the room in a blur of movement.

Cho kissed Harry on the forehead. "Hope you like it," she said, feeling his strong arms come around her waist.

"Cho, you are amazing," Harry replied, giving her a quick kiss, before snatching the Snitch from mid-air, and placing it back into the box for safekeeping.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "I, unfortunately, have no gift except for some good news. First, your lifetime Quidditch ban has been revoked, as has been your Hogsmeade ban. I'm certain the Gryffindor team will be more than happy to have you back. Secondly, I have arranged for a tutor to assist you in Occlumency over the course of the school year."

Harry's jaw dropped. "It's not Snape, is it?" he asked meekly.

"No, not Professor Snape," Dumbledore replied, seeing Harry sigh in relief. "Your tutor will be a friend of Daelin, and is very skilled in Occlumency. You'll have no trouble with her."

"And," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with pride, "you have my permission to reform the DA, and instruct its members at your leisure. The OWL results are most compelling, as the DA members scored highest in the category of Defence Against the Dark Arts, compared to the rest of the fifth years."

"Daelin is a most effective teacher, but the students will need all the practice they can get in the event of an emergency. With both yourself and Professor Stormfury training them, I am sure that the students will be ready for anything. Will you accept this responsibility?" he asked, staring at Harry and Cho. The tension was thick for a moment, as the two Champions thought about taking this increased responsibility.

"Yes," Harry replied. "I'll do it."

"Count me in, too," Cho added.

"Excellent, excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed, laughing in happiness.

Harry handed him Hermione's letter. "Professor, would it be alright if I could go to Diagon Alley, and see my friends?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, of course, Harry. Ms. Chang, your Apparation test is on the 26th as well, correct?"

Cho nodded. "That's right, Professor," she responded, holding Harry close. "Perhaps I could meet up with Harry, after the test?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Capital! Now, where are those Chocolate Frogs? I've collected five of myself already."

* * *

The 26th of August rolled around, and Harry exited Gryffindor Tower, Bill's Dark Detector in the front pocket of his casual robes. Heading towards the Great Hall, Harry found Dumbledore, Stormfury, and six other Order members waiting for him. "Now, Harry," Dumbledore said, motioning towards the Order, "Professor Stormfury and the Order will be escorting you in Diagon Alley, for your safety. Don't wander off into Knockturn Alley, or Muggle London. And, whatever you do, don't mention the prophecies, no matter what. Ms. Chang has gone for her Apparation test at the Ministry, but she will be joining you afterwards."

Harry looked at the escorts strangely. "Are you sure its necessary, Professor? I'm certain I can take care of myself."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with disappointment and regret in his eyes. "Sorry, Harry, but we need to take precautions. Come now, you don't want to keep Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger waiting, do you?"

With a slight nod from Dumbledore, the Order fell in beside Harry, forming a human shield around him. Looking up at their faces, Harry recognized Lupin, Tonks, with shoulder-length blond hair and a pale complexion, Kingsley Shacklebolt in civilian robes, Mad-eye Moody, his magical eye glowing and rotating in its socket, seeking possible threats, and-

"Bonjour, Harry!"

Harry nearly jumped out of skin upon hearing that soft, French voice. "Fleur? You're part of the Order? And, Bill, you're here too?"

The eldest Weasley child grinned, pulling Fleur close to him. "Harry, my mother would kill me and hang me out to dry if something happened to you. Besides, it's a challenge."

Fleur giggled. "Oui. You have 'eard about zee engagement?" Harry noticed that her French accent was less pronounced then from the Tri-wizard Tournament, but other then that, nothing had changed. Except for the ring…

"Yes," Harry replied to the happy couple. "Congratulations! And thanks for the Dark detector, by the way."

"Not a problem, Harry. So, what's it like, being sixteen?"

Before Harry could respond, Mad-eye silenced the group. "Sorry to interrupt the friendly chat, but let's get Potter to his destination, shall we?" With that, the Order became quiet, heading down to Hogsmeade Station and the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Diagon Alley was just like Harry remembered it, noisy, packed, and full of interesting places to visit. After entering the Alley via the hidden entrance, the Order spread out, taking up position around the various shops and stalls, always keeping an eye on Harry. Harry sighed to himself. _Great, now the Order's babysitting me. At least they were kind enough to be undercover, not hover over me like a flight of hawks._ Throwing the hood of his cloak over his head so as to hide his scar from gawking passers-by, Harry began to wander the lengths of Diagon Alley.

After stocking up on Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts at Gringotts, Harry stood by the entrance, deciding where to go next. He stared out into the seething mass of shoppers, both young and old, snaking through the Alley like a river through a swamp. Then it hit him. _Why not? I haven't had a good laugh in a while._

After a short walk, Harry saw it, a fairly non-descript shop, the paint on the exterior being faded red and gold, the battered door decorated only with a lion's head doorknob. A worn sign hung over the door, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. Holding the knob, Harry turned it, expecting it to open.

A trapdoor opened beneath his feet, and with a cry of surprise, Harry fell, sliding through a long and twisted chute. He sped through at an incredible rate on his back, constantly accelerating, as it turned and corkscrewed.

The chute veered upwards suddenly, and instead of stopping, Harry was propelled towards the surface with the force of a cannon, his shouts of excitement echoing through it as he pierced the surface, flying through the shop and finally into a giant net, stopping his insane journey into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Ah, a customer! Welcome, Harry-"

"-to our place of business,-"

"-the humble abode will like to call-"

"-Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Brushing the hair out of his eyes and adjusting his glasses, Harry looked around, seeing the massive inventory of gag items and pranksters supplies lining shelves, racks, and display cases. Extendable Ears, Skiving Snackboxes, Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, Portable Swamps, and numerous other joke items littered the warehouse. And behind the counter, wearing fine dragon-scale vests, Fred and George Weasley stood, grinning from ear to ear as they watched Harry extricate himself from the net.

"Well, if it isn't our principal investor!" Fred said.

"Hope you found our delivery satisfactory." George added.

"Sixteen, huh? Almost ready to join the big boys?"

"Whoa, you've gotten buff! You working out?"

Harry chuckled, shaking hands with the twins. "Yeah, you can say that. Nice way to greet the customers, the chute. How's business been?"

"Booming, mate, booming," George stated, pointing at his vest.

"Our escapades last year gave us an armful of free publicity," Fred said.

"Orders by the hundreds, often the crew can't keep up."

"Workforce is highly paid and motivated."

"No sweatshops for us."

"Rather, they're nasty."

Harry smiled. "Right. I think that Umbridge's reign of terror boosted your sales too. Everytime she stepped into a class, all manner of illnesses broke out. Nosebleeds, fainting incidents, vomiting, a particularly nasty rash," Harry related, watching the grins on the twins growing larger and larger. "Umbridgeitis, we called it."

Fred cackled with glee. "YES! We got the lousy,-"

"-vile,-"

"-psychotic,-"

"-twisted,-"

"-fascist,-"

"-paranoid,-"

"-Ministry,-"

"-BITCH! She went down!" George finished, pumping his fist in the air.

"Teach her to mess with Gryffindor House!"

"Probably went back to the Ministry, had darling Fudge wipe her tears."

The twins laughed uproariously, and within a moment or two, Harry joined in, caught up in the infectious merriment. He had forgotten what it was like, to be happy and enjoy a good laugh, with few troubles on the mind.

Fred wiped the joyous tears out his eyes, as he asked, "Well, Harry, what can we do for you?"

"Rather! After such a good story, we owe you one!" George exclaimed.

"Tell me what's been happening in the outside world," Harry stated, his expression becoming serious. "I've been at Hogwarts all summer, for Order business, and they've cut me off from word of Voldemort or the Ministry. What's happened? Has he attacked anywhere besides Azkaban?"

Fred nodded in understanding. "Ah, the old cloak-and-dagger again."

George showed Harry to the counter. "Don't worry, we'll fill you in. As members of the Order, Dumbledore told us about you at Hogwarts, but left out the rest of the details."

"You're with the Order?" Harry asked incredulously, taking a seat in a chair by the counter.

"Yep," George replied. "We help gather information for Dumbledore. Lots of contacts in the business world, you see."

Fred shoved aside some loose sheets of parchment. "Follow the money, and eventually, you'll run into the Death Eaters, as most of the high-level ones are pretty wealthy."

"Anyway, Azkaban sent the Ministry into overdrive. Fudge, no doubt trying to get public support, put in a bunch of new laws. Now, you can be arrested and held without access to a lawyer, no warrant, and no evidence. They're put in the basement of the Ministry, now that Azkaban is an empty shell."

"Kinda like what's happening with the Muggles. Fudge also created a new unit of Aurors, the Ministry Guard, who often raid people's homes on the charge of Death Eater activity," Fred added, pausing to eat an Every-Flavour Bean.

George reached for a jar of sugar quills under the counter. Sucking thoughtfully on one, he snorted in annoyance. "However, most of the detainees were anti-Fudge, with no evidence to support the charges. So, besides that, and the fact that the Ministry has now acknowledged You-Know-Who's return, not much has changed. Percy's still being Fudge's waterboy, never talks to us anymore. The bugger hasn't apologized yet."

"Umbridge," Fred spat her name, like he ate a glue-flavoured bean, "got off pretty easy."

"WHAT?" Harry shouted. "How did she worm her way out? She terrorized the entire school, and was about to use the Cruciatus on us! How-"

"Fudge," George grumbled. "When dear Dolores was about to be put on trial for using a Blood Quill, that's the nasty quill she had in detention, abusing her powers as High Inquisitor, etc, etc, etc, Fudge stopped it. Using his powers as Minister, he cleared her of all charges, and gave her the job of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister back."

Fred whistled. "Boy, Harry, needless to say, that raised a major stink in the Wizengamot. Lee Jordan's dad, along with Amelia Bones, and a bunch of other Ministry officials tried to overturn him, but no use. She isn't the Hogwarts High Inquisitor anymore, but she's as free as a bird."

"The _Daily Prophet_ hasn't changed either. Instead of calling you a lunatic and an attention-seeker, they've switched their tone. Now, you're just spoiled and reckless. The _Prophet_ is still Fudge's mouthpiece, and nearly every story involves how good the Ministry is doing to 'combat the threat of You-Know-Who.' Bullocks, if you ask me."

Fred shook his head in shame. "We're sorry about Sirius, man. He was pretty cool."

"Don't let the _Prophet_ get you down, Harry. Hardly anyone is reading that trash anyways," George assured Harry.

Harry nodded his head. "Thanks guys, I owe you one. Now," he asked, looking around, "how do you get out?"

Fred and George grinned like the cat that caught the canary. "We'll show you the catapult."

* * *

Hermione Granger sighed impatiently, turning to her friend Ron Weasley again. "Come on, Ron, we have to meet Harry soon! You have been looking at that poster for the past fifteen minutes now!"

Ron pressed his face against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, staring in reverent awe at the new Chudley Cannons poster covering the front windows of the store. "Hermione," he objected, face against the glass, "this is the limited edition Cannons poster of the 1956 team, the year they won the British Championship, not just any ordinary poster!"

Dean Thomas chuckled. "That just shows how much the Cannons suck, Ron. That was the last time they won it. You need to find yourself a new team."

"Oh, like the Manchester Manticores?" Ron sneered, giving Dean an ugly look, both for the fact that he insulted the Cannons, and that he was dating Ginny, holding onto her arm.

"Damn right! I mean, really Ron, the Cannons have a weak Chaser line, their Keeper's reflexes are like molasses, and their Seeker couldn't catch the Snitch if his life depended on it. Suck it up. Move on."

A thick Irish-accented voice cut through their argument. "I prefer the Dublin Marauders meself," Seamus Finnegan interjected, holding Ron back from beating Dean to a bloody pulp.

"The Harpies are pretty good too," added Neville Longbottom, admiring his brand new wand from Ollivanders.

"Alright, calm down!" Hermione shouted, becoming aggravated with the childish squabbling of the four male Gryffindors. Pushing a strand of dirty-blond hair from her eyes, she looked at Ron with a steel-hard gaze. "We have more important things to do than bicker about who can beat who in Quidditch, namely Harry. He needs our support more than ever, especially since, well, you know, Sirius. He should be here soon, so let's help him out, alright?" Her firm voice silenced any argument or dissent from the Gryffindors, who looked around, trying not to meet her gaze.

"Nice job, Hermione," a voice said behind her. Turning around, she found herself looking into the luminous green eyes of Harry Potter.

"HARRY!" Ginny cried, throwing her arms around him.

"Well, mate, too good to return our letters, were ya?" Seamus demanded, jokingly.

"How's your summer been? Good Lord, have you been working out?" Dean asked.

"Hope your birthday was good," Ron said, gesturing towards the others. "What took you so long? 'Mione's been boring the hell out of us."

Harry laughed as Hermione turned on Ron, fuming. "WAS I BORING YOU, RONALD WEASLEY? YOU WERE TOO WRAPPED UP IN THAT DUMB POSTER TO REMEMBER!"

Ginny touched Harry's hand, leading him away from Hermione's wrath. "Don't mind them, they've been at it all day." She looked at Harry with her auburn-brown eyes, her voice filled with compassion. "I'm sorry about Sirius, Harry. Will you be alright?"

Harry smiled at her concern. "Yes, I'll be fine, Ginny," he replied. "I've found some help, from a good friend."

Ginny beamed. "Thank goodness. Now, if we can keep You-Know-Who and that tramp Chang away from you, this year should be fine." She said Cho's name like one would describe a virus, her face turning red in anger towards the beautiful Ravenclaw.

Harry bristled at the comment. "Please, don't call her that," he snapped, watching Ginny turn pale hearing his words. Turning away from her, he faced Hermione. "Now, where to?"

Hermione thought for a moment before answering. "Flourish and Blotts, I guess. How did you do on your OWLs, anyway?"

"Seven OWLs, three at the Outstanding level. DADA, obviously, Potions and Charms. How about you?"

Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Ten OWLs, but only nine Outstandings. I messed up in History of Magic, and got an Exceeds Expectations instead. Neville got seven, including one of the highest Herbology marks on record." Neville grinned from ear to ear.

Harry gaped at her. "_Only_ nine O's? Hermione, that's great! And Neville, nice job. Ron, how about you?"

Ron chuckled at Hermione's discomfort. "Six OWLs, only two Outstandings, in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms," he sighed. "There goes my Auror prospects, but I guess I don't have to face Snape anymore."

"Shall we?" Harry asked, pointing over towards Flourish and Blotts.

* * *

Half an hour later, the seven Gryffindors emerged from the store, carrying the numerous books and tomes they would require for next term, chatting about various topics, like their favourite Quidditch teams, how their summer was, and the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Neville pulled a textbook from his bag, commenting, "Interesting booklist this year. Wonder what the DADA teacher is going to be like?"

"Hope it's not Umbridge again," Dean said, holding hands with Ginny as the group walked down towards the Leaky Cauldron. "Hey, Harry. Will the DA be running this year?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore has given us permission to start it back up again, and he's lifted my Quidditch ban, so I'll be playing on the House team. Don't worry about the DADA teacher, he's pretty good. He's like an Auror, in a way. You'll understand when you see him," Harry responded.

"Wicked!" Ron said, adjusting the straps of his bag to fit more comfortably.

"We should kick out Cho and that sneak friend of hers," Ginny declared venomously. "They're a security threat, and after last year, they don't deserve our friendship."

Once again, Harry felt the stinging barb in Ginny's comments. "Gin, if Cho wants to join us, she can," he retorted, furious that she would demand such a thing.

Ginny looked at Harry like he had sprouted an extra head and become an ogre. "_What?_ Are you crazy? She sold us out to Umbridge! She-"

"Marietta sold us out to Umbridge, Ginny, there's a difference. Besides, we were both acting stupid last year." Harry shot back, knowing full well the true reason for her objection.

"Are you sure about that, Harry?" Ron asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She _defended_ Marietta last year, regardless of the fact that she was a sneak. I know Sirius' death hit you hard, but-"

Harry exploded at his friend, incensed that he would stoop so low. "My decision is based on compassion, Ron, and _don't you DARE BRING SIRIUS INTO THIS!_"

The Gryffindors stopped, stunned by Harry's outburst. Ginny gasped, Ron stood in shock, Hermione put a hand over her mouth, Neville's eyebrows raised in amazement, and Dean and Seamus muttered to themselves, "Who's Sirius?" Their eyes reflected shock, concern, bewilderment, and general discomfort as Harry began to massage his temples, as if to get rid of a major headache. Ginny was the first to respond, her infamous temper boiling out, as wild as her brilliant red hair. "How _dare_ you, Harry? We're just trying to warn you, that slut will probably stab us in the back first chance she gets!"

"Cho is _my girlfriend_¸ Ginny, and she will be treated with respect," Harry spat, furious that Ginny would call her that. He felt the energies of Gryffindor within him, surging with his anger. It was more malevolent this time, raging and surging in his blood and soul, growing more powerful with every moment. "We gave you a second chance, why shouldn't she get one, too?"

Ginny's face turned red, she pulled her hand back and, with a sharp cry of rage and a blur of motion, slapped Harry across the face.

Or she would have, had Harry not intercepted the blow by grabbing her wrist. Ginny's eyes widened in terror, her wrist caught in Harry's hardened grip, his green eyes as hard and cutting as diamonds.

"Let her go, Harry!" Ron bellowed, drawing his wand and advancing towards him, murderous intent on his features. Dean, Seamus and Neville grabbed onto him, dragging him backwards, restraining him from pouncing on Harry and ripping him to pieces. "LET HER GO!"

Harry released Ginny's wrist, and with a flick of her hair, Ginny stormed off, trembling with anger. "Excuse me, Harry," Dean said, letting go of Ron, and walking after her, disappearing into the thick crowds of the Alley.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, tugging on his arm, her voice thick with fear. "It's okay, Harry. It's okay."

_They fear me now,_ Harry thought. _They fear what I have become. Damn it all, they deserve better. Calm down, Harry. _Switching to a breathing technique that Stormfury had taught him for the purposes of mediation, he began to calm down, and the Gryffindor energies settled, like a lion going back to sleep with one eye open, wary of danger. _It almost escaped this time, and I don't even know what it does._

"WHAT THE RUDDY HELL WAS THAT ABOUT, HARRY?" Ron howled, trying to break free Seamus and Neville. Hermione stood on the side, face tense with worry, her wand readied in the event a brawl erupted.

Harry forced himself to remain calm. "Cho is my girlfriend, and I care about her. Whatever Cho has done, it is in the past, and I've forgiven her for it." He took a depth breathe before continuing, observing the expressions on their faces. "Cho means a lot to me. What happened last year was a mistake, on both our parts, and we have moved past it. Have you?"

"Do you want to start a feud between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw House, Ron? Do you want to divide Hogwarts when we should be united? Will you have us fighting and arguing with each other, weakening us against Voldemort, because Ron, that's what he wants."

"You would work with the Slytherins, then?" Ron spat.

"Only if totally necessary," Harry replied. "If you want out of the DA, Ron, that's your choice. But if you want to fight, to help protect what's ours, the Room of Requirement will always be open. Think about it. It's the advice of a friend."

With that, Harry walked away, heading towards the Leaky Cauldron, and the others were left to think. Regardless of their beliefs, they all knew that Harry had changed, and they were not sure if they liked it.

* * *

Harry sat in the Leaky Cauldron, a mug of warm Butterbeer in his hand, mulling over his confrontation with Ron. He had seen the way the others had reacted to him. They feared him, they loathed him, they did not recognize him. Glancing over at one of the booths in the pub, he saw Bill and Fleur, chatting and laughing, all the while keeping an eye on him. Harry's thoughts drifted back to his friends. _Am I destroying a friendship to keep a relationship?_ he wondered. Bitter tears ran down his face, as he took another swig of Butterbeer.

Suddenly, the sound of a loud crack filled the pub, coming from right behind Harry. Grabbing his wand, he turned, ready to hex the intruder into next week for sneaking up in him. But the words never came.

Cho stood before him, wearing a tight-fitting blue Mandarin-style silk blouse that generously hugged her firm chest, decorated with gold Chinese ideographs. Her pants were also made of blue silk, flowing loosely around her long legs. A blue cloak hung around her shoulders, also decorated with the ideographs. Smiling widely, she leapt into the seat beside him. "Well, I did it!"

Harry smiled upon seeing her bright face. "Licensed Apparator, huh?" he said, giving her a quick kiss on her soft, full lips.

"Yep! I can understand why everyone just Apparates from place to place when they first get it. It's like riding a bicycle, really. Once you succeed in learning how, it's a synch." Pausing to stop for breath, she asked, "So, how has your day been?"

Harry shook her head. "Well, eventful, as least. Tom, how about an extra Butterbeer?" he asked the grizzled innkeeper behind the bar.

Butterbeers in hand, Harry told Cho of what he had learned, what Voldemort had been doing, what the Ministry had been doing to stop him, the general feeling on the street, and his confrontation with the other Gryffindors. Cho listened intently, as he described the argument, and, in the quietest of tones, how the energies of Gryffindor had reacted. When he was finished, she looked into his eyes, seeing the frustration of his inability to convince his friends.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. Maybe if I was there, I could have convinced them."

Harry looked up at her, seeing the pity in her chocolate-brown eyes. "It's okay, Cho. Hopefully, we can solve it, but no matter what they think, I'm always going to care about you. I want to stay with you, regardless of what Ron or Ginny has to say."

Cho smiled. "Thank you, Harry. Probably, my friends won't agree with this relationship, but I don't care. I love you Harry, and that's all that matters-" Her voice was cut off suddenly, as Harry kissed her gently, sending ripples of delight down her spine. She returned the kiss, moaning softly in pleasure as the kiss deepened. It was short, but thrilling, as both Harry and Cho were left gasping for breath.

A hush fell over the pub, as Cornelius Fudge entered, flanked by Umbridge in her awful cardigan, and four burly men, dressed to green Auror robes, emblazoned with a white triangle on the back, designating them as the Ministry Guard. The patrons of the Cauldron shuffled aside, as Fudge walked to the bar, a definite swagger in his step.

_So, Fudge is feeling confident today, is he? _Harry thought, upon seeing the puffed-up Minister and his bodyguards. Fudge and Umbridge took a seat beside Harry and Cho, their thugs taking positions around the pub, cowing any unruly customers into silence.

Fudge turned to Harry as if seeing him for the first time. "Ah, Mr. Potter! How nice to see you again! And who is your lovely young companion?" he said, pointing towards Cho.

Harry laughed to himself. _So, it's 'Mr. Potter' now, not 'Potter the raving lunatic' or 'Potter the spoiled, attention-seeking brat'_. He was silent for a moment, before responding, his voice booming so that everyone could hear. "Well, if it isn't the incompetent Minister of Magic, and his assistant, the Queen Bitch of the Universe. How do you do?"

The Leaky Cauldron erupted in laughter, as Fudge turned red with anger, and Umbridge's jaw dropped wide enough to drive the Knight Bus through. Two of Fudge's thugs moved towards Harry, cracking their knuckles, but the Minister waved them aside, turning back towards Harry, wiping his face with a handkerchief, his voice filled with menace. "Very funny, Mr. Potter, very funny indeed. I regret to say that you are still as immature and spoiled as ever. Mind your tongue doesn't get you into hot water."

Beside him, Cho laughed at the stupidity of the statement. "Perhaps, Minister," she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice, "you can teach Harry about the truth, and respect towards others. Obviously, you have had plenty of experience, peddling your lies about You-Know-Who not returning, smearing political opponents, and sending your brown-nosing bitch Umbridge to torment a school full of helpless children. Yes, Harry could learn a lot from you, you being the scheming hypocritic git that you are. Did Lucius Malfoy pay you off, or are just naturally cowardly and idiotic?"

Fudge gasped, coughing in surprise. "You, you, you…" he stammered, astounded that he was being made a fool of, "…will address me with respect, girl!" His thugs moved forward, wands ready. From the back of the pub, Bill and Fleur prepared to intervene if things got rough.

Cho, however, was unfazed by the burly Ministry Guard, screaming at the bumbling Minister, "Get out, and if you ever insult Harry again, I'll make you regret it, you sack of bile!" Raising her wand and getting up from the barstool, she watched as Fudge and his cronies beat a hasty retreat, the entire pub shouting insults behind them. With a whip-crack sound, they Apparated away, not doubt fleeing Cho's wrath.

Setting down beside Harry, Cho took a deep breath, as if to expel the hate. "Well, that was fun. So, want to head back-"

Harry's Dark Detector hissed and spun.

With a thunderous roar, the explosion rattled the length of Diagon Alley, shattering windows, blowing bystanders to the ground. Harry covered Cho's face, the two Champions falling to the floor as shards of glass flew overhead, blown inwards from the force of the blast.

After a moment, Harry stood up, coughing as he raised a sleeve to protect his lungs from the dust caused by the blast. "Cho! You okay?"

An instant later, Cho was beside him, her blouse partially covered with dust, but nonetheless beautiful. "Yes, I'm alright. What was that?" she replied, hearing the terrified screams and cries of innocents outside. The rest of the patrons were hiding underneath tables, or had bolted to the relative safety of the second floor.

"DEATH TO THE MUDBLOODS! FOR LORD VOLDEMORT!"

"Shit," Harry said, drawing his wand. "They're here."

The door of the Leaky Cauldron burst open, revealing four Death Eaters, clad in their usual black robes and white masks, searching the pub for any opposition. Gritting his teeth, Harry decided to give them some. With a wild yell, he leapt out from underneath the bar, wand pointed at the first of the cloaked murderers.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, stunning his target. The others turned towards him, wands raised. "_Expellermius!_" The next Death Eater was sent flying into a table, drinks spilling, and the table smashed in two.

"_Stupefy!_" Bill and Fleur combined their attacks, knocking another foe out cold. The final Death Eater pointed his wand at Harry, readying his incantation. "_Avad-_"

"_Scythios!_" Cho sent the Cutting Blade Hex into the Death Eater's wand hand. Screaming in pain and dropping his wand, he was caught with a skilfully cast Disarming Curse, ejecting him from the pub onto the cobblestones of the Alley.

"Come on!" Harry shouted. With Cho by his side, Bill and Fleur following behind, wand raised, and with a mighty cry, he stormed into the melee.


	7. The Fury of the Elements

**Chapter 7: The Fury of the Elements**

Diagon Alley was a scene of mass panic and chaos. Several shops were on fire as the Death Eaters fired off Burning Curses, setting them alight. Every few feet, bodies littered the Alley, struck down by the Death Eaters. Hordes of terrified shoppers tried to flee, only to have Voldemort's minions blocking their path. Many tried to fight back, but the Death Eaters were too numerous, too deadly, too disciplined, and had the element of surprise on their side. Harry saw his escorts amongst the Order duelling with them, trying to rally others to fight, to defend themselves, but it was to little avail. Above the Alley, hovering like a demented idol, the Dark Mark rose high in the sky, symbol of the Dark Lord's cruelty and malice.

Harry and his companions sent curses into the Death Eaters, Stunning a few, sending confusion into their ranks. Ducking behind a row of carts and stalls, Harry's mind was whirling with fear. _Are the others alright?_ Turning to Cho, he said, "Cho, Disapparate away from here. Get to safety."

Cho grimaced nervously, sending the Scythios Curse into the face of a howling Death Eater. "No, Harry, I'm not going to abandon you. Not again," she snapped, ducking behind the makeshift barricade.

Harry sighed in aggravation. "Okay, then. Keep your eyes open, and dodge what you can't stop. Bill," he demanded, looking at the redheaded man, "can you signal for help?"

Bill nodded, looking around, examining the mayhem around them. "Fleur, ready the signal." He looked at the two young wizards, his voice terse. "When the signal is launched, we charge through and head to Gringotts. The bank is built like a bunker; we can hold position there, and wait for reinforcements. Ready?"

Cho began to flush with tension and excitement. "Don't worry, Cho," Harry said, holding her hand to comfort her. "It's going to be fine." His heart was fluttering with fear, but he pushed it aside, mentally preparing himself to fight.

Fleur stood, a pillar of determination, pale blond hair rising up as she cast the spell. "_ASURYA!_" she screamed, sending an orange and red flare into the sky, arching like a comet into the Dark Mark.

With a rush of energy, the Mark evaporated in a ball of flame. Seconds later, as the Death Eaters stood in surprise at the destruction of their symbol, a new one took its place. Red smoke coalesced into wings, talons, feathers, head, and a menacing beak, with luminous yellow eyes glaring at the Death Eaters below. Rising from the ashes, the Phoenix Mark rose in the sky, a guardian spirit eyeing its foes with untold hatred.

"GO!" Bill shouted, firing a curse at the nearest Death Eater, knocking him to the ground. The four charged forward, cutting a path through the scattered Death Eaters with a tremendous barrage of curses.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, stunning a Death Eater who got too close. Beside him, Cho launched a Blasting Curse into a small cluster of Death Eaters, the force of the blast scattering them. Ahead, Harry saw Tonks and Lupin duelling with several of Voldemort's minions, hard-pressed to drive them off.

* * *

Meanwhile, more groups of Death Eaters Apparated into Diagon Alley, intent on killing and torturing all they could find. One particular group, eight in total, fired Killing Curses into the panic of the crowds, laughing as they went. One of their number seized a young women, cowering in terror at the sight of these vicious marauders. 

"Well now lads, a plaything for us!" he said, a twisted smile behind the mask. Screaming, she tried to flee, but the Death Eaters pinned her down, one preparing to tear off her robes. They chuckled, seeing her pathetic struggles.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Dressed in his Shadow Hunter robes, sword by his side and staff slung in a pouch over his back, Stormfury stepped forward, eyeing the Death Eaters with a look of disdain. "So, these are the infamous minions of Voldemort. Pitiful."

Pushing the young woman aside, their leader spat on the ground, looking at the Shadow Hunter. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, laughing aloud at his attire. "Going to a costume ball?"

With a quick hand gesture and a sharp syllable, the Death Eater exploded in flames, his body consumed and reduced to ash in an instant. The others nervously backed off from Stormfury, muttering to themselves in fear and shock.

"Who am I?" Stormfury said, readying his next spell, feeling the power of fire at his fingertips. "I am the bane of your kind, the force of nature you cannot tame. TASTE GAEA'S WRATH!" Uttering a final syllable to trigger the spell, Stormfury sent the fire into them, blasting their flesh to scraps, sweeping them away as they screamed, all while leaving the young women unharmed. After a second or two, it was over, the Death Eaters reduced to stains upon the ground. Cloak sweeping out behind him, Stormfury turned to look for more targets.

"_Who…what are you?_" the young women whispered, her face stained with tears, curling up into a fetal position.

"I'm…unusual," Stormfury replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more Death Eaters to kill." Taking his staff from its pouch, he charged into the nearest pack of Voldemort's followers, hands wreathed in brilliant flames.

* * *

"Keep moving!" Lupin shouted, blasting another Death Eater away. 

The Order had found a defendable position around the entrance of Gringotts, taking cover behind conjured barricades and merchants stalls. Herding civilians into the relative safety of the bank, the Order engaged in a massive duel with several Death Eater units, shielding their retreat into Gringotts. Behind them, a group of goblins prepared to close the massive doors, and draw in a series of magical sealbeams. Once they were in place, anti-Apparation and defensive wards would be brought up, preventing the Death Eaters from forcing their way inside. They needed only to hold them off until then.

Lupin moaned in dismay as several more Death Eaters Apparated before them, swelling their already substantial numbers. "_Stupefy!_" he yelled, catching a Death Eater in the chest, collapsing him. "_Stupefy!_" Another foe, halfway through casting the Avada Kedavra curse, hit the ground unconscious.

Across the square, Harry, Cho, and their escorts fought to reach the others. Using the spells and techniques they had learned in their training, the two Champions skilfully duelled with the relatively clumsy Death Eaters, blasting them with curses, and knocking them unconscious with quick jabs and kicks if they got too close.

All throughout Diagon Alley, the Death Eaters engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat and duels with arriving reinforcements from the Order of the Phoenix. Fighting hard for their master, the Death Eaters gave their opponents no quarter, sometimes striking them with the Avada Kedavra curse, often controlling them with the Imperious curse and directing them against their friends.

Harry cast another Stunning Curse, ploughing into a Death Eater. Dodging and weaving, he avoided the Killing Curses aimed at him, before launching another stunner.

"_Fumbus!_" Cho shouted, raven-black hair streaming out behind her, as she hurled the jinx at another of Voldemort's followers. With a sickening squirm, the fingers of his wand hand were transfigured into thumbs, causing him to drop his wand. Screaming in shock and staring at his hand of thumbs, the Death Eater was caught unaware by Cho's next curse, sending him spinning away.

One of the Gringotts goblins delivered a report to Lupin. "The doors will be closing soon, sir," the goblin said, shooing some civilians inside. "Everyone must be inside at that point. Once they are closed, the bank will not open them until the danger has passed."

Lupin growled in dismay. "You'll need to give us more time, Griphook!" he snapped, seeing Harry and Cho battling outside. "There are still more people out there!"

Griphook looked at Lupin with a sour expression. "Three minutes more, sir."

Cursing goblins, Death Eaters, and life in general, Lupin shouted, "Harry! Three minutes! Move it!"

"Damn," Harry swore, feeling the energies of Gryffindor writhing inside him. Turning around, he saw Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the other Gryffindors running towards him, firing curses at the Death Eaters. "Harry!" Hermione called, conjuring a Shield Charm, "are you all right?"

"Yes. Now go! Into Gringotts! Hurry!" Harry shouted, pointing towards the bank.

"What about you two?" Neville asked, hitting a Death Eater with an Impediment Jinx.

"We'll cover you," Harry replied, becoming impatient. "Now GO!"

As the Gryffindors bolted for the entrance, a cry rang out. Ron, lagging behind the others, was hit with a Cruciatus Curse, falling to the ground in agony. Standing above him, two Death Eaters chuckled manically, taunting Harry's fallen friend.

"RON!" Hermione and Bill shouted, moving to defend him.

But Harry was faster. Running forward, he leapt into front of Ron's body, wracked in pain on the cobblestones. "_Bludgeous!_" he cried, casting the Projectile Hex. A large black sphere, the size of a Bludger, slammed the first Death Eater in the ribs, impacting with a sickening crunch. He fell, but his partner moved beside him, ready to kill the two students who dared resist them.

"_Bludgeous!_" Harry yelled, sending another sphere towards the Death Eater. Skilfully dodging the hex, the Death Eater turned towards Harry, his eyes reflecting utter hatred towards the Boy-who-Lived. "The Dark Lord will reward me greatly for this, Mr. Potter," the Death Eater said, raising his wand. "_Avad-_"

"_Bludgeous!_" The hex smashed into the back of the Death Eater's skull with incredible force, catapulting him away. Standing behind him, Cho grinned, moving to help the two Gryffindors. "Are you alright, Ron?"

Ron winced, holding his head. "Yep, I'm fine. We should go."

Harry motioned to Bill and Fleur. "Here, carry him. Hurry!"

Ancient hinges creaked to life once more, as the massive doors of Gringotts began to close, slowly but surely, sealing the bank from the outside world.

"HARRY! MOVE!" Lupin screamed, ushering members of the Order inside. "RUN!"

With Bill and Fleur assisting the injured Weasley, Harry and Cho fired curses, clearing a path to their goal. Thirty yards, then twenty yards, then…

A massive club sailed through the air, landing several feet before them, the impact knocking them backwards. Harry's jaw dropped in horror as he saw what threw the club. Trolls. _Six _trolls, storming towards him, each step shaking the ground, menacing grins on their lumpy faces, snorting and growling as they smashed aside civilians, Death Eaters and members of the Order in an orgy of mayhem. Kicking a Death Eater away like a football, the first troll raised his club, preparing to crush the Boy-who-Lived into a bloody paste.

"_Scythios!_" Harry shouted, slashing the troll across the chest before rolling away, as the club smashed the ground where he had been a moment ago. "_Scythios!_" he cried again, drawing another large cut in its thick, rubbery skin. "GO!" Harry screamed, gesturing the others away. Still carrying Ron, Bill and Fleur rushed inside Gringotts, as Lupin shouted at Harry.

Grabbing Cho's hand, Harry ran towards Gringotts, to find the trolls blocking their path at every turn, clubs whistling overhead in great arcs. Harry dove through a gap between a troll's legs, only to find another in front of him.

"_Stupefy!_" Cho shouted, hitting the troll in the head. Taken unawares, the brute staggered back a step. "_Stupefy!_" Another curse hit, with little effect. Shaking his head, the troll raised his club, its beady eyes squinting in glee as it saw her.

"CHO!" Harry was there, pushing her aside, as the club came down, mere inches from her former position. "_Scythios!_" A slash appeared in the troll's skin, but to Harry's horror, the cut began to heal before his eyes. Around him, the other wounds the trolls had suffered started to regenerate, torn and bloodied flesh becoming whole once more. _Damn, they can regenerate. How are we going to stop them?_

"HARRY! GET INSIDE!" Lupin howled, but it was too late. With a hollow boom, the doors of Gringotts slammed shut, accompanied by the grinding sound of the sealbeams sliding into place, separating Harry and Cho from Lupin and the Order…and leaving them at the mercy of Voldemort's forces.

* * *

Shrieks of terror erupted from the throats of the Death Eaters, as Stormfury eliminated another group with the skill of a surgeon and the remorse of a butcher. Fire burst from his hands, burning Death Eaters alive. Lightning crackled from his fingertips, scything through them. His staff swung a sharp arc, smashing heads and ribs. Stormfury howled in triumph, the rush of power intoxicating him as he tore a bloody swathe through his foes, crushing them like ants. "Flee, cowards! Run for your miserable lives! I am a Shadow Hunter! Born of dark night and storm! And I shall hunt you down, WHEREVER YOU RUN!" 

A group of Death Eaters, ten in total, conjured Shield Charms and fired Killing Curses at him, enraged at the deaths of their comrades. Dodging swiftly to one side, Stormfury readied his spell, chanting the words of power and drawing mana within him. With a mighty yell, he sent a massive bolt of frost at them, the Shield Charms keeping them alive for an instant longer before they froze solid, their bodies entombed in ice.

Another group. Stormfury dropped his staff, chanting an incantation and flexing his fingers. After a moment, several wooden spikes materialized between them, each about six inches long with a barbed tip. Waving his hands, the spikes flew towards the Death Eaters, burying into their vitals like bullets. Those that survived the storm of barbs faced Stormfury's blade, flashing through them with the agility of a snake. Death Eaters fell, sliced in two by the curved sword, severing heads and limbs with brutal precision.

"Scared to face a real warrior, huh? Then feel the fury of the elements, defilers of life! The summer sun cannot stand the sight of your kind darkening the earth!" The Death Eaters broke and ran, fleeing from the Shadow Hunter, pushing and shoving one another in their haste to escape his wrath, the mage who fought like a daemon.

* * *

Lupin grabbed one of the goblins by the throat, demanding, "Why can't you? Open these doors, damn you!" The doors were firmly shut, dozens of locks and the sealbeams preventing any forced entry from the outside…including that of Harry and Cho. Because of the sealbeams, Apparation, both from the inside and outside, was impossible, preventing the Order from assisting the young witch and wizard. 

"Company policy, sir!" the goblin choked out, turning blue in Lupin's grip. "We have to…look out for civilians…in an emergency…"

"WELL, THERE ARE CIVILIANS OUT THERE! OPEN THE DAMN DOORS!" Lupin screamed, positively livid, his face red with anger.

Bill grabbed Lupin's free arm before he could reach for his wand. "Lupin, there are innocent people here. Women, children. If we open the doors, the Death Eaters could rush in and slaughter us all. Sorry to be the devil's advocate, but no, we wait here. The Aurors will be sending more reinforcements, and Stormfury's still outside. Between the two of them, they'll find Harry and Cho, and keep them safe."

Lupin dropped the struggling goblin, then turned on Bill, murderous intent in his eyes. "If you had brought them here like you were supposed to, then we wouldn't be in this situation! Too busy eyeing your fiancée, huh?"

Bill did a quick double take. "Oh, so this is my fault now, is it? Fleur and me were doing our best out there to protect them, and you have the balls to question my commitment to Harry and the Order?"

"You're damn right I do. How many Death Eaters are out there? A couple dozen, perhaps? A hundred? Against two teenagers? They won't stand a chance."

"Harry and Cho aren't any ordinary teenagers, remember their training? Besides, Stormfury is out there, and last time I saw him, he was killing Death Eaters left, right and centre. I had to get Ron in here; Harry even told us to go ahead. There's nothing we can do now, except to wait. I won't let you endanger these people," Bill shot back, gesturing towards the huddled masses of men, women and children in the hall of the bank, holding onto each other, comforting each other, shocked at the turn of events. Their faces were gripped in fear, and many whispered prayers for deliverance against evil.

Fleur stepped in between the bickering men. "Enough of 'zis, both of you. Lupin," she said, putting her veela charm to the test trying to calm him down, "we cannot abandon 'zese people. I know you care for 'Arry as if he was your son, but if 'zee Death Eaters get in, 'zey will kill all 'zey see."

Mad-eye shook his head. "Sorry, Lupin, but it's a numbers game, I'm afraid. Don't worry, the kid has spunk, his girlfriend too. They'll make it alright."

Lupin whirled away from the others, understanding their arguments, but still unwilling to admit it. "Tonks!" he snapped, frustration evident on his face. "Who have we lost?"

Tonks winced, applying a Healing Charm to a minor leg wound. "Three. Davidson, Miller and Sampson. A bunch of the scum caught them from behind. Damn them, how many of these bastards are there?"

"Hold up," Moody interjected, his magical eye gazing through the doors as if they were glass. "They're out there, right outside."

"Who?"

"Who do you think, the Royal Family? It's Potter and Chang!" Moody growled. "Dodge and weave, boy! That's how you beat trolls!"

Lupin snapped into action. "Alright. Let's get those doors open, quickly."

"I don't think it'll be necessary," Moody responded, watching the scene unfold before him…

* * *

Harry and Cho stood together, backs against the wall of a shop, firing a small barrage of curses against the trolls. One of their number was unconscious, pounded by several simultaneous Blasting Curses, but the others came on, regenerating as fast as the young Champions could wound them. 

"_Impedimenta!_" Cho yelled, striking one of the trolls. It slowed for a moment, then came on, its vast bulk absorbing the jinx with little effect.

"_Bludgeous!_" Harry cast the Projectile Hex at the troll, smacking it in the head. The troll didn't even notice, but raised its club for the killing blow, its shadow blocking out the light. Harry felt his blood run cold, seeing there was no way to break past the trolls. _Well, Sirius, I tried my best…_

With a frenzied battle cry, Stormfury threw his sword. Spinning over and over again through the air, the blade pierced the troll's brain, killing it instantly, its thick hide and regenerative ability unable to save it. As the troll fell, its ponderous bulk smashing into the ground, Stormfury stepped forward, mana pulsing through him. "Anyone else want a taste?" he asked, gritting his teeth as he prepared his next spell.

The trolls charged, maddened by the impetuous human that stood before them. As the first troll closed in, Stormfury sent fire lancing into the beast, completely engulfing it in flames. Moments later, another troll was immolated. That was enough for the remainder, as they dropped their clubs and fled, scattering away from the Shadow Hunter.

"You two all right?" Stormfury asked, not even sparing the Champions a cursory glance.

Harry nodded his head, shocked at the devastation the Shadow Hunter had caused. "Yes, we're okay," he mumbled.

Stormfury wiped troll gunk of his sword, seeing a massive group of Death Eaters down the Alley. "Good. Then hide yourselves away."

Cho helped Harry to his feet. "Will you be fine, Professor?" she asked, noticing the blood all over his robes, his muscles tensed, eyes wild.

"Yes, I'll be all right. Now go!" Stormfury snapped, sheathing his sword.

Harry tried to object, but Cho silenced him, holding his hand. "Come on, let's get out of here," she said, seeing that Stormfury would brook no arguments. "We can head over to Flourish and Blotts, and hide in there."

"Listen to her, Harry," Stormfury said, gripping his staff tightly. "Go."

Grabbing hold of Harry, Cho guided him to safety amidst the chaos, as Stormfury prepared to weather the enemy counterattack.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange was not a happy Death Eater, and that was saying something. After the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries had been destroyed, Voldemort had tortured her for her incompetence and denied her the rank of First Death Eater, the Dark Lord's right-hand man, a position she had coveted since her escape from Azkaban. Instead, Voldemort had promoted Asmodeus, a newcomer to the Death Eaters who joined after the fall of the prison. She loathed Asmodeus, perhaps more than Potter, with his red mask, ruthless personality, and lack of morals. He was slowly usurping her position and degrading her in front of Voldemort. 

And finally, when she was given command of the Dark Lord's forces for a glorious raid on Diagon Alley, Stormfury and the Order of the Phoenix were there to fight them. Out of the eighty Death Eaters she brought with her, only thirty-eight were left in any condition to fight, the rest either dead or unconscious. Sending a group of eight out to hurt down any lone foes, Lestrange gathered the remainder together and had them push through the Alley, killing everything in their path. Slowly but surely, the Death Eaters made their way towards Gringotts with Bellatrix staying at the back, egging them on.

"Come on, you! Victory is at hand!" Bellatrix crowed, using the Cruciatus Curse on any stragglers. "A bunch of stinking Mudbloods won't stop the Dark Lord's chosen!"

One of the Death Eaters made the mistake of suggesting to her, "Lestrange, we should fall back. The Aurors will arrive any moment!"

"_Crucio!_" The Death Eater fell to the ground in agony. Bellatrix looked at him with psychotic rage, spitting on his fallen form. "We'll kill them all, every single one of the Muggle-born abominations! Their blood shall run like water through the streets! Am I surrounded by cowards or men? KILL THEM ALL!"

* * *

Sweat poured down Stormfury's brow as he chanted, focusing the mana, concentrating on the spell. His muscles tensed, veins bulged, and fists clenched his staff, with the effort to cast a spell of this power. The air grew hot around him, slight cracks appeared in the stone under his feet, yet he ignored everything around him, even the mass of Death Eaters approaching, his mind focused solely on the task at hand.

* * *

"Look!" one of the Death Eaters cried, pointing at Stormfury down the Alley. "It's that…that…daemon!" 

Another Death Eater turned to Bellatrix. "Shall we kill him?" he asked, eyeing the Shadow Hunter nervously.

Lestrange laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "No! His power intrigues me. Besides, I want him pleading and begging for mercy before I finish him."

* * *

Stormfury's chanting reached a fever pitch, and he raised his hands before him, directly at the Death Eater mob. 

With an almighty yell, fire exploded in front of the Death Eaters, sweeping towards them in a wave, consuming all in its path.

* * *

"Back away! BACK AWAY!" Lestrange shrieked, running from the wave of destruction, with several other Death Eaters behind her. The rest were not so lucky, some fleeing too late, others conjuring Shield Charms in hopes of riding it out. 

The wave slammed into the Death Eaters, incinerating them in a blink of an eye, flesh and bone devoured by the fire. One Death Eater stood with a surprised look on his face before he died. The fire immolated the front of several shops, glass melted, stone shattered, and wood flared, turning to ash. In a moment, it was over, the fire burning out as the spell's energies were spent. Twenty-four Death Eaters had been killed, utterly destroyed by the spell. Lestrange and the ragged survivors, only six, their nerves shattered, watched as Stormfury calmly walked towards them, wielding sword and staff.

"Like I said, pitiful."

One of the Death Eaters drew a barbed knife, lunging at the Shadow Hunter. Stormfury sidestepped away, then slashed his assailant through the chest, cutting him in half. "Next!"

Two Death Eaters came forward with knives, advancing cautiously before charging, thrusting towards his stomach. Stormfury skilfully parried the blows with his sword, bashing a Death Eater in the chest with his staff. As the first one fell to ground in pain, Stormfury kicked the second in the knee, before stabbing him through the heart.

The remaining Death Eaters looked at each other, then readied their wands. Stormfury dodged the first Killing Curse and then dived into their midst.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" The Death Eater, casting another curse, missed Stormfury and hit one of his fellows instead, his aim poor due to terror. Stormfury stood back up, sword punching through the man's belly. Wheeling around, he leapt, his sword coming down in a mighty vertical slash, cleaving the last Death Eater into two half-Death Eaters in a shower of crimson spray.

Finally, only Bellatrix Lestrange stood before him, amongst the fallen Death Eaters and the blood-drenched cobblestones. "Who are you, daemon?" she asked, drawing a barbed knife, her voice thick with fear.

Stormfury smiled, sheathing his sword. "I am no daemon, but I fight their kind. I am merely a warrior, you murdering scum. I expected a better fight out of your ilk, but it seems that the great Death Eaters of Voldemort are just vermin and cowards, capable only of fighting small children and helpless civilians, those who cannot defend themselves. You are Bellatrix Lestrange, correct?"

Bellatrix cackled insanely. "Yes, I am, and I have fought greater foes than you, stranger. Give me your name, before I remove your heart for my master."

"I am Daelin Stormfury, Praetor-level Shadow Hunter. You and your kind owe a debt, Bellatrix Lestrange, for every victim you have killed, every innocent you have harmed, every family you have broken. It is a debt that must be paid in blood, your blood, Death Eater, and I will take great pleasure in sending you and all of your miserable brethren to the Abyss."

With a quick incantation, a fine silver blade materialized from the tip of Lestrange's wand. "I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD, MUGGLE-LOVING SCUM!" she howled, storming towards the Shadow Hunter, spittle flying from her lips.

She came forward, thrusting and slashing like a woman possessed, her wand and knife seeking his lifeblood. Stormfury easily dodged her frenzied assaults, egging her on with stinging insults. "Is that the best you can do? By Gaea's touch, I've seen children fight better than you!"

Screaming in frustration, Bellatrix lunged at his head. Stormfury twisted to the side, avoiding the full force of the attack, the knife harmlessly skimming his cheek. Spinning around, he delivered a brutal roundhouse kick to her back, the impetus of the charge sending her storming past him, falling face-first on the ground. Scrambling back up, Bellatrix faced her foe with untold hatred. In a blur of motion, faster than the eye could see, Stormfury drew his curved sword, held it in a tight two-handed grip, and slashed upwards, slicing off her right ear.

Bellatrix screeched in agony, staggering backwards, holding the wound where her ear had been. Stormfury kissed the hilt of his sword. "Can you hear me now?" he asked, looking at the veteran Death Eater with a mischievous grin on his lips. She screamed, charging forward, bringing her wand and knife down towards Stormfury's neck, a blow that would have severed his head. The Shadow Hunter brought his sword and staff up beside his neck, blocking the attack entirely. "Good!" he exclaimed, headbutting her in the face, accompanied by a crack as her nose broke.

Lestrange was knocked backwards, sprawling on the ground. Standing back up, she rushed forward, regardless of the pain of her wounds. This was the opening Stormfury was looking for, as he chanted a quick phrase. With the rumble of stones being torn up, a massive vine erupted from the earth, sideswiping the Death Eater aside, sending her through a shop window. Moaning in pain and spitting blood as she lay in the rubble of the shop, Lestrange Disapparated away before Stormfury could reach her.

Stormfury howled in triumph, sheathing his sword again. "Anyone else? he asked, seeing only devastation and fallen Death Eaters around him. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat down, resting his wearied muscles before searching for the absent Champions…

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry and Cho ducked behind several bookshelves on the second floor of Flourish and Blotts, hearing the sounds of battle raging outside. "What's going on out there?" Harry asked, panting heavily as he checked his wand. 

Cho brushed several loose strands of hair from her vision. "Probably Stormfury," she replied tersely, moving to the second floor railing overlooking the atrium, glancing for any threats below. The store was empty, as the owners had fled for their lives as the Death Eaters advanced. The stench of burnt flesh permeated the air, and bodies littered the Alley. As they had made their way to Flourish and Blotts, Harry had noticed that many of them were small children, faces contorted in agony and terror as they died, struck down by the Death Eaters.

The thought of those poor children made the bile rise up in Harry's throat. _How can anyone justify doing such a thing? What kind of monster would order it?_ He knew its name. Voldemort. Harry felt the energies of Gryffindor churning in his soul at the thought of the Dark Lord, the power flickering like a broken lightbulb. _He's going to suffer for what he has done!_

"Harry!" Cho urgently whispered, as the sound of sharp whip-cracks heralded the arrival of eight Death Eaters, Lestrange's hunting party, on the first floor of the store. "Let's find a way out," she hissed.

One of the Death Eaters looked up, glimpsing the two students as they slowly moved to the back of the shop. "There!" he shouted, raising his wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_" The curse missed Harry's head by inches, blowing apart a bookcase.

"RUN!" Harry shouted, grabbing Cho's hand and running for the back. Skirting around bookshelves and massive stacks of tomes, Harry faced the back wall in shock. There was no way out, save through the Death Eaters.

"Where did those little bastards go?" exclaimed one of the Death Eaters.

"Use Burning Curses, smoke them out like rats," came the response, thick with malice.

"I _want_ the girl," another said, chuckling evilly. "_Combustous!_"

Bookcases were set alight as the Death Eaters fired barrages of Burning Curses throughout the shop, flames licking the pages, sending smoke rising towards the ceiling. While two Death Eaters stayed on the ground floor, the rest marched up the two staircases leading to the second floor, using Burning Curses on anything in their path. Although tiny compared to the flames unleashed by Stormfury, they cut off routes of escape, leaving Harry and Cho effectively trapped.

"Damn," Harry said, watching the Death Eaters slowly approaching. "They're herding us like cattle. Should we try to break though?"

Cho shook her head. "No, they'd be expecting that," she argued, looking for an exit. All she saw were the Death Eaters, burning shelves, the atrium, more shelves…She cursed herself for her stupidity. While the Death Eaters had secured the staircases, they could escape by leaping off the railing into the atrium, to the first floor! _Come on, Cho, time's a wasting!_

"Willing to make a leap of faith?" she asked Harry, squeezing his hand.

Harry smiled despite himself, as he realized her plan. "Sure," he replied, looking into her beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. "I'll be right beside you."

Glancing ahead, the two lovers took off, running through the shop hand in hand, racing towards the edge, gritting their teeth in determination to survive. The Death Eaters, caught by surprise by the frantic dash, were slow to react.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Killing Curses blazed towards the Champions, but they went wide, tearing up the floor beneath their feet, blowing cabinets and shelves apart. With a great bound, Harry and Cho leapt over the railing, and into mid-air, hurtling towards the ground and two inattentive Death Eaters. One looked up at the last moment, his eyes betraying surprise as Harry slammed his elbow into the Death Eater's face, breaking his nose with a satisfying snap. Cho kicked her target in the face, the added momentum of the fall turning her into a human projectile, knocking the Death Eater out cold and sending him to the ground. Six left.

Harry whirled around towards a stairwell, wand pointed at the Death Eaters. "_Stupefy!_" One of the Death Eaters fell unconscious, the others retreating up to the second floor. Five left.

Conjuring a shield, Cho dodged several errant Killing Curses from the Death Eaters on the other stairwell. "_Concussius!_" she cried, sending the Blasting Curse towards them. The concussive force of the blast blew the Death Eaters away, driving them into a wall, knocking them unconscious. Two left.

"_Protego!_" Harry whispered, conjuring a Shield Charm as he looked around for a moment. _Where did those last two go?_

Harry heard the curse before he saw it, overwhelming him in an instant. The Disarming Curse hit him from out of nowhere, sending the wand out of his hand, weakening the shield. Harry staggered for a moment, thrown off balance by the sudden attack, as the two remaining Death Eaters sprang forward, intent on killing the young witch and wizard.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" one of them shouted, green light speeding at Cho. The Ravenclaw beauty dived out of its path, then rendering the Death Eater unconscious with a Stunning Curse. One foe left, who looked upon Cho with unmistakable lust as he raised his wand. "Come and face me, pretty one," he sneered, spittle falling to the floor.

Harry jumped up, scrambling to reach his wand and join in the fight and assist Cho. With a quick flick of his wand, the Death Eater shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" The Body-Binding Hex hit Harry in the back, the already weakened shield collapsing as the magical bonds wrapped themselves around him, leaving him immobile and helpless.

"_Stupefy!_" Cho cried, firing another Stunning Curse. The Death Eater skilfully dodged, the curse sailing past his head, missing him by inches. Before Cho could cast again, he shouted, "_Imperio!_"

The Imperius Curse hit Cho in the midsection, her body going limp as it gained control, reducing her to a string-puppet to be directed as the Death Eater willed. Harry felt the tendrils of fear grip his heart. "CHO!" he screamed, trying to wiggle out of the bonds, but the hex maintained its hold. _Oh, Cho, I've failed you._ The energies of Gryffindor hummed in his soul as he despaired, struggling in vain.

The Death Eater walked towards Cho, pocketing his wand. "Now, pretty one," he oozed venomously in her ear, seizing a lock of her raven-black hair, "you will do this for me." He looked at Harry with an evil grin.

"Kill Potter."


	8. Dark Alliances

**Chapter 8: Dark Alliances**

Harry moaned in horror as Cho began to slowly walk over to his fallen form, her eyes blank and soulless with the Death Eater directing her, greedy in anticipation of the kill. "CHO! Don't do this! It's me!" Harry screamed at her, struggling to escape the magical bonds, but to no avail. "CHO!"

The Death Eater laughed in triumph. "That's it, Potter, squirm! My pretty one here will end it soon!"

Harry felt his blood turn cold at the remark as he continued to struggle. The bonds remained as tight as ever. "Please, Cho, stop!" he cried, trying to reach her. Burning parchment, carried by currents of hot air, floated around Harry's fallen form. To his left, he saw a bookshelf buckle under the heat, the fire melting its structure and collapsing it.

_Could I? Is it possible?_ Harry thought, seeing the flames twist and dance in the corner of his vision. _Come on, Harry, better work fast!_ his mind screamed.

He began to tap the mana again.

Swallowing to lubricate his dry throat, Harry chanted the words of power, praying that he remembered them correctly. He pictured the fires in his mind, trying to tap the mana, just as he did in that fateful training session before his birthday, before Cho declared her love for him. He blotted out everything, Cho, the Death Eater, the store, concentrating only on the flames, the full strength of his mind and body bent on this task.

Cho reached Harry, and with a sharp command from the Death Eater, raised her wand. "Now, pretty one, kill him!" the Death Eater shouted, chuckling in malevolent glee. "Kill him! Kill him!"

Harry's heart caught in his throat, seeing Cho's face fill up his sight, but he continued to chant, feeling the mana building up within him, all the while waiting for his love to say the words and to send him to his parents, to Sirius.

The curse never came. Cho merely stood beside Harry, wand pointed, but no words came from her mouth. No green flash, snuffing his life out like a candle. Harry continued the incantation, his throat strained as he muttered the final stages. _Almost there!_ he thought, focusing, always focusing, ignoring the seductive whispers that echoed in the back of his mind.

"Kill him! KILL HIM!" shouted the Death Eater again, foaming at the mouth in rage. "Why won't you listen? KILL HIM!"

Cho remained motionless, her face contorting in discomfort. With a keening wail, she dropped the wand, clutching her head in agony, trying to resist the spell that gripped its talons about her mind.

The Death Eater stared at her in shock, and Harry made his move, shouting the last syllable of the spell. Fire leapt from the burning shelves, engulfing the Death Eater in a shroud of flames. He screamed as the flames consumed him, twisting and spinning in an effort to quench them, then shuddered and collapsed, eyes gazing in death at the Boy-who-Lived.

For a moment, everything was still. Only the sound of burning parchment could be heard, and the stench of burning flesh filled up the room. Shaking, Cho said, "_Finite Incantem!_" removing the Body-Binding Hex from Harry. Grabbing his wand, Harry returned the gesture, dispelling the last traces of the Imperius Curse.

Cho slumped forward into Harry's arms, shuddering in exertion. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, holding him close. "Are you all right?"

Harry did not respond, staring at the charred corpse, which moments ago had been a living being. Bile rise up in his throat and his vision swam, the energies of Gryffindor writhing in his gut. "I killed him…I killed a man…I killed him, Cho," he mumbled, seeing the Death Eater's sightless eyes staring back at him, accusing him of the deed. _You did this, boy. You did this…_

"It's okay, Harry, you're all right!" Cho said, clutching him tighter. "They're gone now, it's over. We're safe."

Harry wept into her shoulder, feeling the heat of her body against his. "Cho, thank God you're okay! I was so scared," he whispered. In a flash, the thought came to him. "You resisted the Imperius Curse." His voice was filled with joy and shock in equal measure, relieved that she was save.

"I couldn't do it Harry. I couldn't give in and do that, not to you," Cho replied, stroking Harry's cheek. "It's okay, Harry, I don't blame you for what you did."

Harry looked at the corpse again, feeling the rush of shame coming over him again. "I killed him, Cho. I put you in so much danger." Now, the enormity of what he had done overwhelmed him. He had killed that man, in self-defence, but he killed him anyway.

Cho's eyes hardened in anger. "No you didn't, Harry. They were just killing everything they saw, being with you had nothing to do with it. You saved our lives by using Elementalism, Harry, and you stopped that Death Eater from possibly harming others. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry shook his head. "Yes, but-"

"Good to see you again, Mr. Potter, Ms. Chang." From the doorway, Stormfury emerged, stained with blood, his curved sword sheathed at his side. "Are you all right? What happened here?" he asked, gesturing at the smoking body of the Death Eater.

"I did," Harry responded, his voice hollow. "I used Elementalism against him."

Stormfury did a quick double-take as he realized what had occurred. "Come on, we had better go," he said, helping the students to their feet. "The Aurors are coming, and no doubt they'll be some questions about what happened here. The train is waiting for us at King's Cross."

Getting to his feet, Harry asked, "What about Ron and Hermione and the others?"

"They're safe, Harry. Hurry, we'd best slip away."

* * *

The convoy of carriages made their way south, wooden wheels rattling on the overgrown and rocky path. Nearby wildlife scattered into hiding as they rumbled past, fearing the beings that lurked within these ghostly wagons. Skulls and effigies decorated the exterior, which was made of a midnight-black wood that seemed to draw in light. Black curtains hid the occupants from the outside world, and the prying eyes of any bystanders, those that survived the Dementors patrolling the skies in great flights, preying on the souls of anyone foolish enough to stray into their territory. 

The carriages approached an abandoned mine, the battered entrance blasted into the hillside. Rusted-out digging machines were parked around the entrance, testament of the mine's more profitable days. Now the miners were gone, replaced by something sinister lurking in the depths of forgotten caverns and mineshafts.

Pulling into the entrance, the carriages stopped in a long tunnel and were met by an honour guard of Death Eaters with wands at the ready. The door to the first carriage opened, and its dark passenger walked out. She was dressed from head to toe in black leather, hugging her generous curves. A ruby pendant hung around her neck, distinguishing her from the others who emerged from the convoy. The beauty of her pale skin, full red lips, and delicate brown hair were marred by the twisted sneer on her face and the untold cruelty in her eyes. With gloved hands, she wiped blood off her leather corset before drinking deeply. "Oh, he was _good_," she moaned, licking her lips. "It's refreshing to drink blood untainted by fear. Correct, Vlad?" she asked, fangs protruding from her gums.

"Of course, Lady Isolde," came the response from the carriage, as another vampire walked out, bowing and wiping the last of the blood off with a silk cloth. "Such a meal is only fitting for one of your magnificence!"

"Exactly," she purred. "Well, Vlad, perhaps we should speak with our new allies?"

"Yes, my lady."

The two vampires walked towards the Death Eaters, observing the fear in their eyes. Vlad licked his lips. "May I have one, my lady? It's been so long…"

"You'll feed when I say so, not a moment before," she snapped. Turning to the Death Eaters, she asked, "Where is your leader? I expected that Lord Voldemort himself would be here to greet us."

There was nervous shuffling as the ranks of the Death Eaters parted and one of their number stepped forward. Slowly, deliberately, he kissed the vampire's hand like a gentlemen. "I apologize, Lady von Albrecht, for the Dark Lord's absence, however, he had some pressing matters to attend to. I am Asmodeus, the First Death Eater. Lord Voldemort is expecting you but asks that your followers stay behind," the Death Eater said, nodding his head in deference.

Isolde looked at Asmodeus. Like the other Death Eaters, he wore the black robes and cloak, but his mask was blood-red instead of the usual white, with the area around his mouth cut out. He seemed to be well-muscled, but not grotesquely so, and he was a fairly young man. Other than that, she could not discern any identifying features on the First Death Eater, who stood out amongst his lesser brethren like a tree in the desert.

"Very well, Death Eater. We'll take my carriage. Vlad, stay with my entourage," the vampire ordered, gesturing the others away, before gracefully stepping back into the carriage, Asmodeus following behind her. With a wave of her hands, the carriage made its way through the catacombs, the twisted route sloping downwards as they went on.

The vampire gazed at Asmodeus with covetous eyes. "Is that your real name, Asmodeus?" she asked, fiddling with her ruby brooch.

"My true name matters not, my Lady," came the monotonous reply. "The Dark Lord refers to me by Asmodeus, so that is the name I have taken."

"Very well then, Asmodeus," Isolde huffed, sliding closer to him, running her hand up his thigh. "Tell me, is Voldemort a good master?"

Asmodeus' expression remained neutral as she caressed him. "He wishes to maintain the purity of wizarding kind. Purity of blood, purity of magic, untainted by the spawn of Muggles and Mudbloods. They must be purged."

"I see."

Asmodeus sneered in disgust. "The Muggle is an abomination, little more than an animal, good for only breeding and dying. The fact that they're polluting the bloodlines of wizarding kind is an abomination unto itself. Our culture, our power, and our prowess is being eroded away by the Muggle-loving fools in the Ministry and the inter-breeding between Muggles and wizards. They would see us become the same as them, become weak and soft and pathetic, filthy bastardized spawn. We are securing our future, even if every Muggle and Mudblood man, woman and child must be eliminated. We'll be doing the world a favour by doing so. They will serve us, or they will be consumed."

Isolde slid her hand to his groin, delighted as she felt him shudder at her touch, his expression contorting with pleasure. "Well, Asmodeus," she whispered, gently brushing her lips against his, "I will wish to see you after your duties are finished."

The carriage jerked to a stop as it reached their destination. Asmodeus turned to Isolde, his face stony once again. "Behold, my Lady, the glory of the Dark Lord!" he shouted as they stepped out.

They emerged into hell. Von Albrecht looked around the monumental cavern in amazement, seeing the twisted sights before her, illuminated by the countless globes of light hanging from the ceiling of the cave. A row of barracks had been carved from the rock, quartering Voldemort's Death Eaters. Black-clad assassins trained in brutal knife-fights. Foundries belched out smoke. Flocks of harpies constructed roosts suspended from stalactites, cawing and screeching as they feasted on human flesh. Screams of terror were heard from several pleasure houses, where the Death Eaters engaged in unspeakable acts of torture and perversion on Muggle women kidnapped in various raids. The hammering of tools echoed through the chamber, with teams of maniacal goblin engineers busily constructing machines of war. An entire series of caves had been furnished as Voldemort's private quarters and meeting hall.

And along one of the cavern's walls, a massive digging operation was taking place. Giants swung great pickaxes, tearing up chunks of stone and smashing them to pieces. Groups of Muggles, controlled by the Imperius Curse, cleared the rubble away, toiling until they fell dead of exhaustion. Magical creatures, trolls mostly, were harnessed together and used as draft animals, moving rubble and equipment from place to place as the excavation continued. Death Eaters oversaw the operation, ensuring that it ran smoothly.

"Welcome to Hell Pit, my Lady," Asmodeus stated, seeing her shocked expression. "The Dark Lord is expecting us."

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange screamed as Voldemort placed the Cruciatus Curse upon her, twenty Death Eaters gathered around the spectacle. "You have failed me again, Bellatrix," Voldemort stated, his voice colder than a north wind, applying the curse once again. 

"Ple…ple…ase…master! The fault was not mine!" Bellatrix replied, gritting her teeth in agony, the remnants of her ruined ear wrapped tight in a bandage. "It…it…was…the daemon!"

Rodolphus Lestrange shook his head. "First Potter, then this daemon. There's always an excuse, Bella love, isn't there?" he mocked his wife.

Bellatrix glared daggers at him. "He wasn't human, I tell you! Nearly thirty of my Death Eaters, dead in an instant! He-" Her voice died as Voldemort silenced her with a single flick of his wand.

"Wrong, Bellatrix, _my _Death Eaters. Never forget that," he interrupted, removing the Silencing Charm. "Now, tell me this. Who was this mage?"

Bellatrix swallowed nervously before answering, "He called himself Stormfury, a Shadow Hunter, and spoke the name of one of the old deities." She cringed and grovelled, expecting another dose of the Cruciatus. "Please, my Lord, don't kill me! I will never fail you again!"

"You do, and I will make you wish you had never been brought screaming into this world," Voldemort stated, his voice still cold and indifferent. "Now, leave. I will call for you later."

Bellatrix bowed hastily, and fled from the chamber. Voldemort sat down upon his throne, massaging his temples. Like everything else in the tower, his throne was lavishly decorated, embellished with jet-black stones and silver engraving. A series of banquet tables had been laden with fine wine and perfectly prepared food, while his serpent familiar Nagini slithered towards him. "Now, how goes the excavation?" he asked, casting his blood-red gaze around the room, stroking Nagini as she coiled about him.

The Death Eaters before him were the Inner Circle, his most trusted followers, although he currentlyhad little trust in their ability to succeed. The majority were his original Death Eaters, those who had followed him during the First War. Some, like the Lestranges, were known for their utter devotion and fanaticism towards the cause. Others had extensive wealth and resources for the Dark Lord's disposal. There were crafty spies, exceptionally talented duellists, and ruthless enforcers. At the moment, save for Bellatrix, only one other Inner Circle member was missing. Asmodeus.

Voldemort smiled in pride as he thought about his First Death Eater. Although very young, Asmodeus had shown all of the qualities needed to obtain such a high rank. Cunning, determination, utter ruthlessness. He was fanatically loyal to the Dark Lord, a skilled fighter, and a shrewd tactician. _Fools, incompetents! You've failed me too often_, he thought, observing the Inner Circle.

Lucius Malfoy looked around nervously before responding meekly, "Poorly, my Lord. The rock is solid, even the giants are having trouble breaking through it, and there is still no sign of what we seek."

"_Crucio!_" Lucius fell to the floor, howling in agony. "I want the Chaos Stones found," Voldemort said, barely suppressing his anger. "Do whatever it takes, use whatever methods of persuasion needed, but find the Stones. Don't fail me. Now, leave me, and return to your duties," he added, watching the Death Eaters scramble out of the hall in their haste to avoid his rage. "Kreacher!"

The demented house-elf appeared with a pop. "Master has orders?" he asked, muttering darkly.

"Yes, you loathsome wretch, I have orders. Bring Ulric here at once, we have much to discuss. Be quick about it, or I'll send you back to those Muggle-lovers you betrayed. And I doubt they'll be happy to see you." At the mention of Muggle-lovers, Kreacher's ears drooped.

"No, kind master," Kreacher squeaked, wringing the grimy pillowcase he wore, "don't send good Kreacher to blood-traitors and half-breeds. Scare Mistress, they did! Traitor son betray her, he did, nice mistress Bella _finish him_, she did!" The house-elf gave a twisted cackle and snapped his fingers, teleporting away to retrieve Voldemort's guest.

Several moments later, Asmodeus and von Albrecht entered, the First Death Eater prostrating himself before his master as the vampire looked on in distaste. "Ah, Asmodeus, my faithful servant," Voldemort proclaimed, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Arise. And Lady von Albrecht, welcome. How good to see you again! I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Von Albrecht smiled, showing her fangs. "We took precautions and the journey was done in secret. The fools at the Ministry suspect nothing, as you requested. Now," she said, looking over at Asmodeus, who had taken position by the entrance to the hall, "why did you send a lackey to escort me? And why were my followers told to stay behind?"

Voldemort chuckled evilly. "My dear Isolde, Asmodeus is my First Death Eater, commander of my armies, not some lowly servant. As for your followers, we can't be too careful when dealing with those who could potentially betray us," he replied, seeing the vampire's expression change to one of shock. "I don't want you dead, even more than you already are, Isolde. If I did, Asmodeus would have finished you in the carriage. Isn't that right, Asmodeus?"

Asmodeus' expression was blank as he answered, "Yes, my Lord, if you had commanded it."

"Well, you spoke of an alliance in your message, Voldemort," Isolde said, baring her fangs in frustration. "What do you have in mind?"

"Yes, that's what I want to know, too," came another voice as a newcomer entered. His thinning hair was greying at the temples, and his patched and frayed robes had seen better days. Nevertheless, his confident air, solid frame and the scar running down the left side of his face, narrowly missing the eye, indicated he was a man who didn't back down easily. "I've been waiting almost an hour, my patience is wearing thin. And what is that vampire doing here?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at von Albrecht.

Voldemort smiled, seeing that both his guests were present. "The same as you, Mr. Jaeger, ensuring your destiny. May I present to you Isolde von Albrecht, last of the von Albrecht line. Isolde," he exclaimed, gesturing towards the newcomer, "this is Ulric Jaeger, Alpha of the Werewolf Cabal."

Von Albrecht eyed the werewolf suspiciously. "Interesting. So, mongrel, how did you receive that nasty scar?" she asked, faking concern.

Jaeger gave a feral grin. "From the previous Alpha," he said, tracing the scar with a finger. "Cabal law states that only the strongest may be Alpha. He wasn't. Care for a demonstration, vampire bitch?"

"I've killed greater beings than you for less," she spat back, feeling the weight of her hidden knife strapped to her boot. "I've seen more blood in the past thousand years than you will ever see!"

"Save some for the rest of us, will you?" Jaeger responded sarcastically.

"ENOUGH!" Voldemort roared, as Asmodeus intervened before a fight could break out. "The Ministry has asserted almost total control over your peoples, and you still squabble amongst yourselves. I'm offering you a chance to free yourselves, to take control of your own destinies, to remove those who stand in your way."

Ulric stopped and stared at the Dark Lord, his feud with the vampire forgotten. "Go on, we're listening."

Voldemort smiled. They had taken the bait. "Isolde, you remember the Kingdom of the Night. Join me, and you can relive it again!"

Isolde closed her eyes, as if remembering a dream. "The blood flowed in the fountains of my father's castle, and the von Albrechts, my family, ruled over all of Albania. The humans were our cattle, to be feasted upon at our leisure. Our number swelled, all swearing fealty to House von Albrecht and the Blood Ruby," she said, holding the ruby that hung around her neck. "When my family had been bitten centuries ago, we thought that we had been cursed, but we were wrong! We became beyond human, and gained mastery over the night."

"Until she came," Voldemort finished.

"Ravenclaw," Isolde spat, her expression becoming cold. "Very well then, Voldemort, we shall join you. My people are scattered, but many will flock to your cause. Consider us at your service," she declared, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. She turned towards Asmodeus. "Your lieutenant…interests me, Voldemort. He's much different than your other lackeys, stronger, more determined. He's a challenge," she purred, tracing his cheek with a hand.

Voldemort ignored her. "What do you say, Ulric? Have you had enough of the Ministry dictating your future, of denying your brethren their rights?" he asked, turning his attention to the werewolf Alpha, who was shaking his head in dismay.

With a mighty howl, Ulric toppled the table over, smashing crystal goblets into fragments. "For too long, for TOO LONG!" he bellowed. "The Ministry has hunted and hounded my people for far too long. Werewolves everywhere have been discriminated against for _existing!_ Ministry restrictions placed by that bitch Dolores Umbridge have forced us into poverty and despair! It is time for my people to embrace the fang, embrace the power of their animal aspects! The Cabal will fight beside you, Lord Voldemort. Give us the strength to take our revenge for centuries of oppression!"

"And I shall," Voldemort replied. He raised a goblet in salute. "To our new alliance!"

"To old glories!" shrieked von Albrecht.

"To the glory of the Dark Lord!" Asmodeus added.

"To the destruction of the Ministry!" Ulric howled.

Voldemort raised the cup to his lips, then paused. "To the destruction of the Ministry, and Potter," he whispered, drinking deep.

_I will not fail this time,_ Voldemort thought, observing his new allies. _I was overconfident before, and that will not happen again. Once the Chaos Stones have been found, and the power given to me, I will ascend beyond this mortal form and no force in the world will stop me from achieving my goal. Not Potter, not Dumbledore, not this Stormfury, the Order of the Phoenix, the Aurors, the Ministry, no one. I will complete the grand crusade Salazar Slytherin launched a thousand years ago, and eradicate the unworthy from the world._

_Nothing will stop me._


	9. Another Year at Hogwarts

**Chapter 9: Another Year at Hogwarts**

With a hiss, the finely forged sword cleaved through another simulated opponent, sending him to the ground. Harry wiped sweat from his brow, before parrying a knife thrust and slashing the assailant across the chest. Pausing to take a breath, Harry saw the extent of the damage he had done, illusionary opponents scattered around the room. Even an intensive combat session in the Simulation Room had not been able to remove the tension he felt. Muttering a word, Harry dispelled the illusions, leaving him to grapple with his doubts and fears.

The train ride back to Hogwarts had been done under close guard. The Order of the Phoenix, shaken by the boldness of the Death Eater assault and grieving for their lost comrades, had taken extra precautions, garrisoning the compartments in the event Voldemort would attack the train. Once they arrived at Hogwarts, Cho had been taken to the Hospital Wing to recuperate and Harry had been sent back to Gryffindor Tower. As usual, information wasn't forthcoming. Dumbledore didn't even show up.

Harry tried to suppress his anger. _Goddamn him! We were almost killed by the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore can't find the time to say 'hi'._ Disobeying his instructions, he had come to the Simulation Room instead, releasing his frustration on the ranks of illusionary Death Eaters and spiders sent against him. His thoughts trailed back to the Death Eater in Flourish and Blotts, consumed by the fire Harry had unleashed against him. Harry's vision swam every time he thought about it, how the Death Eater's eyes glared back at him in death, and how the whispers of power crept into his mind. _What's happening to me?_

Footfalls behind him informed him of Stormfury's presence. "Someone only fights like that when they have something on their mind. Care to talk about it?" the Shadow Hunter asked.

Harry smiled despite himself. "You probably won't understand," he said, sheathing his sword.

"It's about what happened at Diagon Alley, isn't it?"

The statement seemed to hover for a moment like a dark cloud, filling up the silence. Stormfury shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over it, no one judges what you did. Everyone in the Order is here to help you. Lupin, Tonks, Weasley, Dumbledore-"

Harry began to chuckle, an unpleasant sound. "Dumbledore? DUMBLEDORE? HE HAS DONE NOTHING TO HELP ME!" he screamed, tossing the sword away. "Do you know what it's like to be abandoned on the front steps of a family that doesn't care? To be mistreated just because you're different? Do you, Shadow Hunter?"

Stormfury appeared unfazed, replying, "I can certainly guess."

Harry slumped down, head in his hands. "I don't want anything more to do with him, Professor. He has done nothing but lie to me, ever since I got my Hogwarts letter. I don't trust him anymore. And now this!" he shouted, gesturing outside. "Cho almost gets killed, and he doesn't even bother to ask how we are."

"And with good reason," Stormfury responded. "If I was in your position, I would certainly be angry too. I've been as honest as I can, Harry, and if I haven't told you something, it's because I didn't know." He fell silent for a moment, before asking, "Tell me, Harry, how did it feel to kill that man?"

Harry shuddered before responding, "During, I felt powerful. Afterwards, dirty, almost unclean."

Stormfury nodded his head. "And that, Harry, is why you are honourable. Anyone can be caught in the thrill of battle, but only a true warrior, a honourable one, does not enjoy what he has done but realizes its necessity. A true warrior kills for the right reasons, like to defend the innocent, to protect what he loves. I think, Harry, that is why you killed him, not in anger or hatred, but love, love for Cho. That is what makes you different from the Dark Lord," he said, turning to leave. He paused for a moment. "That is what makes you different from him, Daemonslayer."

* * *

Cho, having been released from the hospital wing, stood by the edge of the lake, staring across the waters, the quiet breeze caressing her perfect skin, running through her shining hair, leaving her at ease. _Just like Harry,_ she thought, seeing her love in her mind's eye. After almost two years of sorrow, her heart and soul had been restored by Harry's caring and devotion, Cedric's memory finally put to rest, and the torturous events of her sixth year banished into the past. All because of Harry. 

Her beautiful smile faded, remembering Harry's sullen expression on the train, blaming himself for putting her in danger. She saw them together at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry weeping bitter tears because he couldn't convince his friends to accept her. _He's been through so much, with no end in sight._ A tear fell into the water, but Cho controlled herself. _I have to stay strong. For him._

Over the summer, the two lovers had been a constant sight together. They had eaten their meals together, shared life stories, studied, trained and snogged. When they were finished training for the day, they explored the castle, went for romantic strolls on the grounds, even gotten in a few one-on-one Quidditch games. Summer, however, was ending. In a few days, they would be back to classes, tests, and Houses. It would be House lines again, gossip in the halls, and two sets of friends who disapprove of them being together.

Her parents wouldn't like the fact that she was going out with this man, nor would her friends amongst Ravenclaw House, including Marrieta and Michael. She didn't care. Her parents were incredibly strict and criticized nearly every decision she made, expecting her to follow their lead, be an obedient daughter, and to follow the path they had chosen for her, namely, to be married off to some fat, greedy, sexist, pure-blooded wizard back in China by her twentieth birthday, consigned to a lifetime as a housewife and an ornament.

Marrieta would be no better. During their sixth year, Marrieta had tried to convince Cho to break up with Harry, stating that, "He's not worth your time, Cho. Have you heard what the Prophet's saying about him? He's a troublemaker and an attention-seeker. You don't really think You-Know-Who killed Ced, do you?" When they did break up, in the argument over Marrieta's treachery, the sneak was ecstatic, saying, "I was right about him, Cho. I knew he'd break your heart."

Then there was Michael. He had always gone on about how awful Harry was towards her, and how pathetic he and his friends were. The fact that he had dated Ginny Weasley obviously eluded him. Being dumped in favour of Harry would have definitely pissed him off, and increased his loathing towards him.

With an angry sigh, Cho pushed the thoughts from her mind. _Who cares what they have to say? I love Harry, and Harry loves me. He respects me as a person, not as a trophy or a bargaining chip. To hell what they think!_ Oh, how it felt good to think that. She wanted to scream from the highest tower of the castle, _Cho Chang controls her own destiny! I am a Seeker, a Champion, and I love Harry Potter!_

It would infuriate her parents, that she loved this man. Her mother would quietly and calmly remind her that she had a duty as a daughter to obey them, to respect their wishes, and love the man of their choosing. Her father would be more blunt and direct, informing her of the consequences of disobedience, threatening to kill Harry to protect the honour of the family. _What honour is there in denying happiness? How is it honourable to ignore my feelings for Harry, yet sell me off to a man like a whore?_

"Cho?" Turning around, she saw Harry, his eyes lighting up in happiness as he saw her. "I checked to see if you were in the Hospital Wing, but you weren't, so-" Harry's excuse was cut off as Cho kissed him, the feeling of his lips on hers igniting her nerve endings. She ran her hands through his messy black hair, squealing slightly as his hands came to her waist. The kiss deepened, constantly deepening, lasting forever but not nearly long enough for the two lovers, moving to the side of a hill and throwing themselves down, arms wrapped around each other. Cho moaned as she felt Harry's lips trailing butterfly kisses down her neck, melting into his chest, enshrouded in his warmth.

After a short but passionate snogging session, they cuddled up against one another, basking in the radiance of the sun and the glow of their affection. Cho traced Harry's cheek with her hand, noticing the troubled expression on his face. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, concern in her eyes. "Please, tell me."

Harry sighed. "I'm just, well, there's just a lot of things. First, I love you, more than anything."

"That's good to know," Cho said, kissing him again.

Harry smiled for a moment, then became grim. "Back in Diagon Alley," he said, voice choking up, "I almost lost you. You could have been killed. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Cho gasped for a moment, realizing what he was proposing. "No," she said, flat-out.

"I want to be with you, more than I've even wanted anything before. But, if you feel that your safety is more important, that's all right too."

Cho's hand came up, smacking him across the face, then grabbing his collar, pulling him close. "Listen, Harry," Cho ranted, gritting her teeth, "I'm only going to say this once more. I am _not _going to abandon you, I did it once before and I have regretted it ever since. I've told you in the Hospital Wing, in Diagon Alley, and now here. The Death Eaters aren't going to break us apart. They aren't going to win."

Harry swallowed nervously for a second. "I'm sorry, Cho, for doubting you," he said, kissing her again. "You just mean more to me than anything. I just needed to make sure you knew..."

"I know," Cho whispered, kissing him back. "You don't need to feel guilty for what happened, Harry. I can defend myself, but I'm grateful that you're looking out for me. Now," she said, looking into his eyes, seeing the deep pools of emotion within, "let's not talk about this further. Let's just enjoy what we have, okay?"

Harry smiled. "Thank you," he said, kissing her again. The kiss deepened and continued, even as the sun set behind the hills and the stars began to shine, the two lovers kissed, content that they could not be broken apart.

* * *

Harry stood on an upper-level balcony of the stairs, watching as the tide of students, some new, most returning, making their way towards the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. Cho stood beside him, holding his hand as they mentally prepared themselves to see their friends. Harry's stomach fluttered at the sight of seeing Ron, Hermione and the others. _Well, Harry, you had an argument with them. Friends have arguments all the time. Remember Ron and Hermione, during their third year. It'll work out._

"Harry!" The voice cut through Harry's thoughts like a knife, shaking him out of his reverie. Looking down the hall, he saw Katie Bell running towards him, the Head Girl badge pinned to the front of her Hogwarts uniform.

"Wotcher, Katie," Harry greeted. "Head Girl, huh? Nice!"

Katie blushed. "Thanks, Harry. Hello, Cho! How was your summer?" she asked, seeing their fingers intertwined.

Cho grinned, looking at Harry as she replied, "Pleasant. Yours?"

"Pretty good. I would think that your summer would be more than just pleasant, with the Death Eaters!" Katie exclaimed, handing them a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Glancing at the front page, Harry felt his blood go cold. "It's from a couple days ago, but that's the mood now," Katie added.

"Harry?" Cho asked, seeing his expression change to one of shock.

"Listen to this," Harry said, reading out the front page:

_Attack at Diagon Alley, Wizarding World's Attention-Seeker Present By Morag O'Reilly _

_The peace and calm of the quaint London shopping district Diagon Alley, including the London branch of Gringotts Bank, was shattered by a vicious raid by the Death Eaters, the dread servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Since the fall of Azkaban, You-Know-Who's minions had been fairly silent, but this raid struck unexpectedly. The cruel Death Eaters killed several civilians, and razed the odd shop and restaurant. Thankfully though, the brave Aurors, directed by the Minister of Magic, arrived in time to prevent any major damage, and drove them off in a valiant effort._

Harry snorted in disgust at this point. "Useless propaganda," he spat, amazed that the _Prophet_ would still be peddling this garbage. "The Aurors arrived later on, when the threat had passed!"

Katie pointed at the next column. "Wait 'til you hear what they say next."

_However, before the brave Auror units could stop them, a group of dangerous vigilantes were seen fighting the Death Eaters, causing major damage to the Alley in their recklessness. Only one of these vigilantes could be identified, 16-year old Harry James Potter, who was seen with another teenager, fighting the Death Eaters. While Mr. Potter's intention was good, this reporter is appalled that such rogues would take the law into their own hands._

_Also, eyewitnesses say that a new Mark took to the skies, one in the form of a phoenix. What does this new sign hold? A few, mainly in the poorer and uneducated areas of wizarding society, believe that this is the sign of a new organization, one that fights the Dark Arts. However, Pieter Ramoras, Head of the elite Ministry Guard, had this to say:_

_"Obviously, what we have here is a clash between two rival Dark factions, the Death Eaters and this new group. Many gangs and Dark groups use these marks to tag their territory. I'm not saying that Mr. Potter is a member of this new group, but he's pretty naïve, he may have just fought with them just to get some attention."_

_Mr. Ramoras is an exceptionally skilled Auror, and hand-picked by the Minister of Magic, so his opinion in this field cannot be questioned. Another interesting occurrence is this battle was the sheer number of Death Eater causalities. The highly skilled Aurors tried to only stun their opponents and bring them to justice, while many of the Death Eaters had been burned beyond recognition or horribly mutilated and cut up. The Aurors have no comment on this matter._

_At a press conference after the attacks, Minister Fudge praised the Aurors, especially the Ministry Guard, for their work. As luck would have it, the Minister had left Diagon Alley before the raid took place. "Unfortunately," the Minister commented, "there are many people who have little concern for the peace of the wizarding world, including Mister Potter. Why, right before I left, he and his female companion were stirring up trouble in the Leaky Cauldron! But, have no fear, the Death Eaters will be caught. Even You-Know-Who cannot stand up to the might of the Aurors and the Ministry of Magic!"_

Harry ripped the paper to shreds, fuming. "Is Fudge nine kinds of an idiot?" he asked, spitting on the fallen pages.

"He's wrapped up in his power, Harry, and he can't see past it," Cho said. "The media isn't helping either, buying his lies and not having the guts to dig deeper."

"It's total bullocks, I know," Katie added. "Those people fighting the Death Eaters did more than the Aurors ever could! I believe you, Harry. You and Cho weren't fighting to fulfill a hero complex, you were saving lives!" She ground the remnants of the paper beneath her boot. "Just like last year, Harry, I'm with you. Is the D.A. back up again?"

Harry nodded in affirmation. Katie smiled. "Good. Harry, if you two need some help organizing it, just give me a call," she said, pointing to the badge. "I can arrange to get you a classroom if you need it, or contact the other Houses, or keep the Slytherins off your back. Benefits of being Head Girl."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Katie. We owe you one."

She returned the smile. "Don't mention it. So, when did you two get together?" she inquired. "Come on, spill it! I won't tell."

Cho blushed. "Unfortunately, Bell, I don't kiss and tell," she retorted, with a mocking tone. "Needless to say, we're happy together." She gazed into Harry's eyes, seeing the warmth beneath. Harry kissed her forehead, pulling her close.

"Great!" Katie exclaimed. "It's nice to see you two happy again, after last year."

The three entered the Great Hall, and found it ready for the feast. Thousands of candles floated overhead, the light contrasting the enchanted night sky on the ceiling. Already, the students had been seated at their tables and busily talking and gossiping as Professor McGonagall lined the first-years along the wall in preparation for the Sorting. Harry kissed Cho on the cheek, and then they parted, making his way to the Gryffindor table, feeling the eyes of his fellow students on him as he walked. The Slytherins hissed at him as he walked past, whispering dark threats, but he ignored them, focusing on the forms of Ron and Hermione, who were engaged in a jabbering argument about the importance of the N.E.W.T's.

Finally, he reached the Gryffindor table, hearing the greetings of his house-mates.

"Hey, Harry!"

"Hope your summer was good, Harry!"

"Hey, General!"

"Oh, Harry, you've grown!" This comment came from Parvati and Lavender, who had obviously not seen Harry since his training, and were reduced to swooning in their seats.

"Hey, guys," Harry mumbled, sitting beside his two best friends. At once, their conversation came to a dead stop, and they turned away from Harry, fidgeting uncomfortably.

Ginny glared at him from across the table, saying, "Hello, Harry. How was your holiday?" in a tone that could freeze water, her Prefect badge shining brilliantly.

"Fine, thanks," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione still looked away, a look of regret on their faces. _What have I done?_ Harry thought to himself, seeing how morose everyone looked at his presence. Even Seamus and Dean seemed nervous, as if talking to him could get you killed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Hermione's face lost colour at this statement, but Harry turned away, looking throughout the hall.

All around him, students talked and joked, telling stories of their summer, whispering in fear as they discussed Voldemort. The teachers were at the staff table chatting amongst themselves, Professor Flitwick and Hagrid swapping stories, Professor Snape looking as sullen as ever, having not received the Defence Against the Dark Arts job yet again, Professor Stormfury speaking to Professor Sprout about the properties of a particular root, and...

Dumbledore was missing.

Harry looked around the Great Hall for Dumbledore, but he couldn't find the wizened sage. Not with the teachers. Not telling off a student at one of the tables. Not reassuring the first-years. Not present, in the Hall entirely.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked, turning back to his friends.

"I wouldn't know, I guess I'm just not _worth your time_," Ginny growled, her eyes chips of ice.

Harry tried to keep his temper down. "Listen, Ginny, I'm sorry about what I did, but you have to understand, I really like Cho, and-"

"Don't talk to me," Ginny retorted, cutting him off. "I don't want to talk to you right now," she sulked, wrapping her arms around herself. Beside her, Dean tried to comfort her, but she remained cold and indifferent.

Once the Sorting Hat had finished its song, and the last first-year ("Victor, Joseph!" "HUFFLEPUFF!") had been sorted, Professor McGonagall came forward, her face stern as she addressed the school. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I regret to say that Professor Dumbledore is currently involved in some important business with the Ministry and is unable to be with us tonight. However, he sends his apologies, and hopes that this year will be as enjoyable and informative as ever."

Muttering could be heard throughout the Houses, the students whispering amongst themselves in surprise at the announcement. As far as anybody knew, Dumbledore had never missed a Welcoming Feast, and the students looked to McGonagall in fear of the next announcement. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy and his goons chortling at the news, until a quick gaze from the Deputy Headmistress silenced them.

"The Headmaster shall return in a few days, and will expect that the day-to-day operations of the school are running smoothly. I look to the prefects and our Head Boy and Girl to help fulfill that commitment. Next, we must remind each and every student that the Forbidden Forest is off limits. Also, there is to be no magic used in the corridors. Mr. Filch," she said, gesturing towards the loathsome Hogwarts caretaker, "has the full list of forbidden items, including the entire catalogue of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes." At that announcement, the Gryffindors groaned in dismay, and a faint smile came to McGonagall's lips.

"Now, and this is very important! We all know of the danger posed by the Dark Lord," McGonagall said, her voice trumpeting across the room, the mention of Voldemort's title causing students to flinch, "and the school has taken measures to protect itself from any threat. That being said, the Quidditch season and Hogsmeade visits will remain in place, under supervision from the teachers. The Headmaster assures us that the Dark Lord cannot enter the school, and that we are perfectly safe. Next, I'd like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Daelin Stormfury."

Applause from the student body erupted, seeing Stormfury in his Shadow Hunter robes, his sword slung on his back, rising up from his chair at the staff table. Harry saw Malfoy's jaw drop at the announcement. _His dad probably told him about Stormfury. Good_, Harry thought.

McGonagall continued, "This December, the school will be having another Yule Ball, for third-years and up. Dress robes will be required. For additional information, see the Head Girl and Boy; they'll have more for you. And finally, it is with great pleasure that I announce that the Hogwarts High Inquisitor has been removed, and that all Educational Decrees enacted by the Inquisitor have been declared null and void."

With that, the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables exploded in jubilation, cheering and shouting anti-Ministry slogans. "_Vive la liberation!_" a Ravenclaw fourth-year shouted, and the rest joined in. Soon, the entire Great Hall (except for the Slytherins) was chanting it as their battle-cry. The Slytherins began to look edgy, glancing nervously at the seething mass of celebration beside them. Snape looked like he was about to explode, while Stormfury chuckled softly to himself.

Harry saw the Slytherins muttering to themselves, some even grabbing their wands in case the rest of Hogwarts should storm towards them and beat the snot out of the entire House. He smiled. _Slytherin House assumed that Umbridge would be a permanent feature here, and with the Inquisitorial Squad at the head, they'd control the school. Now that she's gone, the Slytherins are going to harvest a bumper crop of hatred towards them, the one they planted last year. Be nice to the people on the way up, 'cause you'll be seeing them on the way down. _Harry glanced over at Malfoy. The young pureblood had an expression of utter terror on his face, and his goons moved into position around him like he was the President trapped in a protest march. _That's an old saying that Malfoy should have learned. _

Eventually though, McGonagall managed to restore order, firing a Flash-Bang Hex into the air to calm the students down. "I'm glad you agree," she said, her words greeted with howls of laughter. "Now, the feast!"

Plates of food materialized before the hungry students, and they dug in with gusto, enjoying the fruits of the house-elves slave labour, as Hermione pointed out. For a time, the Gryffindors forgot their arguments with each other, wrapped up in the euphoria of the feast and the abolition of the Educational Decrees. Harry laughed as Hermione chastised Ron for speaking with his mouth full, all the while Dean and Seamus had a contest to see who could drink the most pumpkin juice in thirty seconds (Seamus won, the honour of Irishmen everywhere defended). Harry and Katie discussed Quidditch tactics for the upcoming season, while neither willing to accept the brutal position of Captain for the Gryffindor team. Unfortunately, not too many tactics were discussed, as Harry found himself staring over at the Ravenclaw table, searching for a particular raven-haired young woman...

Almost an hour later, his belt loosened, Harry began to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, seeing the full moon outside of a hallway window. _Poor Remus,_ he thought, staring at the moon. _Last of the Marauders_. He pitied the man, probably stuck in the Shrieking Shack or Number Twelve as the transformations came over him.

Something caught his eye, a star, glowing brighter than the others. The word caught in his throat, the name of the star. _Sirius._ He wept for a moment, seeing the star that bore his godfather's name, rising higher and brighter than any other. "I'll beat him, Sirius. No matter what it takes, I'll beat him. Even if takes an eternity, I'll find a way to stop him. I'd rather be know as the man that tried and failed, than one who didn't try." His voice sounded hollow in his ears, as the tears fell.

A hand touched his back, accompanied by her soothing voice. "It's okay, Harry," Cho said, holding her love close. "I'm here for you, just like you were for me."

Harry wiped the last tears away. "Thank you, Cho. For everything."

Cho smiled despite herself. "My pleasure, Harry. Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure."

Cho took a deep breath before asking, "When we face each other in Quidditch, or anything like that, don't go easy on me. Play like you would play anyone else. If I beat you, I want it to be because I did my best, not that you went easy on me."

Harry nodded his head, holding her close. "Absolutely. Besides, I need a challenge anyway!" he exclaimed, feeling Cho's body vibrate with laughter.

"Ah, Potty and Chang, together again."

Harry turned around, seeing none other than Malfoy, a twisted sneer on his lips. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott flanked the spoiled Slytherin, and Pansy Parkinson held onto his arm, smiling evilly. "Poor, poor Chang," Malfoy drawled, pointing his wand at Harry. "Being around Potter can be hazardous for your health. First there was Diggory, then his _dog_. You might want to watch yourself." His robes seemed shabbier than usual, but it was still the same Malfoy, same hair, same sneer, same arrogance.

In an instant, Harry's wand was out. "Hey, Malfoy, how's your father doing?"

The blond Slytherin sneered. "Out of Azkaban, Potter. I told you they couldn't keep him in there for long. Now, he's coming after you. You can't stop him, or the Dark Lord."

Harry laughed. "Still can't call him by his real name, huh, Malfoy?" he asked, flexing his fingers around the wand. "So, I assume you've come to restore the honour of the family, if it ever existed."

"Shut up!" Parkinson screamed, spitting at Harry. "You don't know what we can do to you!"

Cho giggled at the absurdity of the situation. "Actually, we do. You see, do you really need five people to fight two?" she asked. "I know you're lousy duellists, but really-"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Malfoy shouted, his normally pale face turning red. "You're going to pay for what you did for to my father! You, the Mudblood, Weasley, your Ravenclaw whore-"

Malfoy's voice was cut off, as Harry lunged forward, the tip of his wand touching his opponent's chin. Harry's voice became cold. "Say that again, and I'll hex you into the next time zone. Now, get out of here," he warned the Slytherins, feeling the energies of Gryffindor welling up inside, feeding on his hate.

"I said it on the train, the first time we met, and I'll say it again. You're on the losing side, Potter," Malfoy spat, his cold grey eyes drilling holes through Harry. "Do you actually think you can beat the Dark Lord? He has more power than you can imagine, and my father is powerful as well."

Harry laughed at the irony of the statement. "You might be surprised, Malfoy. Besides, your dad couldn't take a piss properly without Voldie there to help him."

"Don't you insult my father that way, Potter!" Malfoy shrieked, maddened with rage.

"What, that he's an asshole, or he's a spineless piece of Death Eater shit, who got his arse kicked by a _house elf?_ You didn't know that already?" Harry asked, every syllable dripping with hate, seeing Draco's fists clench. Harry goaded Draco on, saying, "Now's the point were you and your waterboys walk in the opposite direction with your tail in-between your legs, Malfoy."

Malfoy's face turned a shade of purple that would have put Uncle Vernon to shame, the Slytherin's burly companions stepping forward as Pansy looked at Harry with utter revulsion. Beside him, Cho tensed, grabbing her wand.

"One of these days, Potter, you-AHHH!" Parkinson screamed, a clod of mud slamming into her face, pitching her backwards onto the ground. Harry and Cho laughed as she attempted to claw the mud off of her face, Malfoy and his minions dumbfounded as to where it came from. Suddenly, Crabbe and Goyle's heads were knocked together, the burly Slytherins stunned. Nott was next, his legs tripped from out under him, slamming him on the stone floor. Only Malfoy was left, his jaw dropped in shock as his goons were dispatched in the space of a few seconds. Whimpering, he fled, kicking his house-mates to get them moving. After a moment, only Harry and Cho were left, the Slytherins beating a hasty retreat to the dungeons.

Harry wiped a tear of merriment from his eye. "Nice job there, Cho, with the curses."

Cho looked at Harry with a puzzled expression. "I didn't do anything," she said, showing him her wand, still in her pocket. "Hey! What was that?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked.

"I thought I heard footsteps, walking down the hall. Just now," Cho said, listening intently for a minute, but heard nothing. "I'm sure I heard it." The hallway was quiet, with only the sound of the wind flowing around them, nothing audible as footsteps.

Harry shook his head, then moved to hold Cho's hand. "Anyway, mind if I walk you to Ravenclaw Tower?"

Cho gasped jokingly, "Do you really think I need a guy to escort me to my dorm?"

Harry grinned. "Nope. I just thought it would be nice."

Cho gave him a quick kiss. "Good enough for me," she said, unaware of the eyes watching them, unseen, from the shadows...

* * *

Ginny heaved herself onto her four-poster bed, great sobs shaking her frame. She closed the curtains of the bed, then buried her face in her pillow, letting the tears flow freely. The feast had been a total disaster with Harry pining over Cho the entire time, and Dean's words had little effect in warming her icy demeanour. She felt claws of jealously close over her heart, grasping it firmly, at the thought of Harry and Cho together. She whispered his name in the dark, seeing his bright green eyes and well-toned Seeker body, now in the hands of Cho. The look in his eyes when he saw her said it all. 

She thought she didn't like Harry anymore, and to a great extent, that was true. All throughout his fifth year, she dated other guys. She had convinced herself that she didn't need Harry, and that Michael or Dean were just as nice as he was.

Until that day in Diagon Alley, when Harry had _defended_ Cho's betrayal, and announced that they were back together. Ginny felt her illusion of contentment and happiness shatter into a million pieces at those words. They drove straight into her heart, tearing it out. They killed her. She had seen the suffering and misery Harry had endured last year because of the tramp, and now history looked to repeat itself. He had allowed himself to be blinded by her charms. She knew how this was going to end.

A knock sounded on the door of the dormitory. "Ginny, it's me," came Hermione's voice. "Is there something wrong?"

Ginny laughed pitifully at the understatement. _Of course there's something wrong!_ her mind screamed. "Did Ron or Dean send you?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

There was a pause. "No."

"Come in," Ginny said, brushing her blood-red tresses from her eyes, the hair that she wanted Harry to touch, to hold, to tease...She felt the tears rise up again, just as Hermione walked in.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said, pulling her into a comforting hug. "It's Harry, isn't it?"

When Ginny spoke, her voice was as keen and cold as a midwinter wind. "She'll break his heart, Hermione. She's done it before. He will give her the world, and she'll ground his heart into the dust."

Hermione sighed. "Listen, Ginny," she said, handing her a tissue, "did you see Harry and Cho when they walked into the Great Hall? Harry was happy, Ginny, happier than I've seen him since fourth year. Cho too. They've found happiness, something that they've been searching for since the Triwizard Tournament."

Ginny faced Hermione with malice in her eyes. "Well, how long is that going to last? Not long, Hermione, and when she's done with him, he'll be worse off than before!" she shouted, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "How can you not see that? She's been through more boyfriends in the past couple years than anyone else in Hogwarts. Harry needs his friends, not that tramp!"

Hermione paused before answering, "You shouldn't call her that, Ginny. Besides, I think this is a big thing for them, not just some crush. We have to respect that."

"What, respect that she's going to _hurt_ him?" Ginny shrieked. "You, me, Ron, Neville, we've done so much for him. We've consoled him, we've advised him, we've fought alongside him. We were there when Sirius died. And what has Chang done to deserve his affection? Nothing! She can't be trusted."

"Ginny, calm down, you're starting to become paranoid!" Hermione snapped, interrupting her rant. "We'll tell Harry your concerns tomorrow morning, he's gone to sleep already. We do not want to see him get hurt either, so just calm down, okay?" With that, Hermione left, somewhat shaken by Ginny's words.

Ginny stared out the window, her thoughts consumed with sorrow. _Why, Harry? Why her? Why can't you see the truth?_ Ginny fell back on her bed, gently crying herself to sleep, visions of Harry and Cho in love tormenting her dreams.

* * *

Cho sat on her plush bed in her silken nightclothes, mediating in the lotus position, eyes closed, clearing her mind in preparation for sleep. While Harry did it to try to prevent Voldemort from gaining access to his mind, Cho used it merely for health benefits. As much as she tried, she couldn't get Harry out her mind, his smile, his brilliant green eyes, the way her soul lifted with every kiss, the rush of energy when they touched... 

"Um, Cho?" The voice came from the edge of consciousness. It was Marietta. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Cho opened her eyes and turned to face her friend. Marietta's face still had a few of the splotches caused by the jinx she triggered when betraying the D.A, although they no longer spelled out "sneak." The treacherous Ravenclaw sat on the edge of Cho's bed, wringing her hands nervously, a concerned expression on her face.

"Sure," Cho replied.

Marietta stammered for a moment before beginning. "Cho, I'm your best friend, right?" she asked.

Cho nodded, unsure of what to say. "Well then, what the hell have you been doing?" Marietta shrieked. "All summer, I've been trying to owl you, and not one response. I thought you were kidnapped, or worse!"

With a sigh, Cho responded, "I've been in Hogwarts, Mary. Dumbledore was censoring our letters, and the post didn't get through. I was only able to send a few letters myself."

"Well, what were you doing that was so important that they restricted the post?" Marietta asked incredulously. When Cho didn't reply, she continued. "Then, you dumped Michael for no apparent reason. You get into a fight in Diagon Alley. You told off the _Minister of Magic!_" She was screaming by this point, her face turning red, "And now I find you're with that Potter. Hasn't he hurt you enough?"

Even though Cho knew that this confrontation was coming, she was shocked for a moment by Marietta's venomous tone. "What happened last year was a mistake," she replied, trying to keep her anger in check, "and we've worked past it. The fault was as much mine as his, maybe more so."

Marietta shook her head in frustration. "Why though? Why ditch Michael? He's smart, very cute, nice abs, a Quidditch player, and, most importantly, he's not some Gryffindor radical. He's dangerous, Cho. He goes out looking for trouble, and usually finds it, if the rumours are true."

"Michael didn't give a damn about _me_, Marietta!" Cho shouted, the energies of Ravenclaw rising in her belly, growing and building with her anger. "Michael would have respected me no better than a whore. I have _feelings_, and _emotions_, and _dreams_, Mary! I'm a human being, not some symbol or object. You and everyone else see me as just a pretty face, Ravenclaw's poster girl, only good for a shag, while none have gotten the chance. Michael sees me that way, an object, a possession, no different than his Nimbus or his wand."

"But-"

Cho shuddered in rage, a single tear trailing down her cheek. Somewhere in the distance, a vase exploded, but she paid no attention. "Harry does his very best to look out for me. He's a good person on the inside, Marietta, and that is what makes him special. He knows that I am more than just an object. He sees the academic, the Quidditch player, the fighter, the compassionate side, all of these facets that make me. He helped me move past Cedric, and I've helped him move past his godfather. He's beautiful in ways that Michael will never be."

Marietta's mouth gaped wide, the sneak dumbstruck by what she heard. "Your parents won't like it."

"That's a given, but I don't care. I won't simply obey their wishes like a dutiful daughter anymore. They treat me like I am four, not seventeen."

For the next few minutes, Marietta brought up the list of reasons why Harry wasn't right for her. She reminded Cho of Harry's notoriety within the school, his constant brushes with the wrath of the school administration and the Ministry. He was reckless, an attention-seeker, and had little regard for the rules. He was a rival Seeker, and how would that look for the team? He was always being targeted by Dark wizards, and was a risk to her safety. She was dishonouring the memory of Cedric. He had already gone out with her, and it hadn't worked. After a quarter of an hour of listening to these, and other, objections, Cho lost her patience.

"Marietta, Harry is a great man. We love each other. End of story. If we feel that it's not working out, we'll find a way that suits us. Until then, it's working out."

By this point, Marietta was utterly furious. "Cho," she said, clenching her teeth in frustration. "As a friend, I'm telling you that Harry is only going to hurt you. Also, it's either him or me. Either he goes, or our friendship ends here."

Cho whirled on Marietta, angrier than she had ever been in her life. "Don't forget to close the door on the way out," she spat, feeling the energies of Ravenclaw inside her, so close to being unleashed...The slam of the door signalled Marietta's departure, and Cho took several deep breathes, trying to calm herself. _I'll stay strong. Weakness has no place in my life. Not now._


	10. Ice Queen

**Chapter 10: Ice Queen**

Harry fell.

The wind rushed past his face as he fell, sitting on his trusty Firebolt, above the Quidditch Pitch, seeing the sun rise from the treetops and the clouds float overhead, all the while hurtling down towards the grassy pitch like an errant missile, faster and faster. Harry pulled up before he hit the ground, seizing the Snitch in mid-air as it weaved its way above the Pitch. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, feeling Cho's present try to escape his grip. After a half an hour of practice, Harry felt his old Quidditch skills return, after almost two years without playing. _Of course, it's much easier without the enemy Seeker, the Bludgers, and the Beaters harassing you,_ he reflected, releasing the Snitch. After a minute or two, he would fly after it again. And again, and again, constantly practicing and honing his skills until it was time for class.

It wasn't the best practice, but Harry enjoyed the silence, the contentment of unfettered flight. Here, he was away from the troubles of the world and his life. No Voldemort, no feuds with his friends, no guilt. He could abandon his roles as the Boy-who-Lived, the Daemonslayer, the Champion of Gryffindor, all of the chains and bonds that trapped him in a position that he didn't want.

Sighing to himself, Harry went after the Snitch again, seeing the gold glimmer at the other end of the Pitch. Almost instantly, the Firebolt closed the gap and Harry grabbed the Snitch. It was too easy, but he kept at it anyway, over and over again, feeling the wind whistle through his hair, and the morning sun embrace his greedy skin.

A seeker in flight.

* * *

An hour later, Harry returned to the silence of Gryffindor Tower, showering and changing into his school robes. Putting his Firebolt back in its trunk, he made his way down to the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was busy eating breakfast and preparing for the new school day. Sitting beside Hermione, he helped himself to some of the food prepared. "Morning, 'Mione," he said, with a mouth full of pancakes. 

Hermione sighed in frustration. "Honesty, Harry, you can be as bad as Ron sometimes," she said, handing him a sheet of parchment. "Professor McGonagall has handed out timetables already. Where were you this morning? And more importantly, where were you this summer?"

"Answering your first question, practicing for Quidditch," Harry replied, seeing Hermione's disapproval. "Relax, 'Mione. You want us to win the Quidditch Cup, don't you? Not that you guys didn't do well or anything," he said, looking at Ron and Ginny.

Ron shook his head in embarrassment, mumbling, "Thanks, Harry."

"Where did you get a Snitch to practice with?" Ginny asked, tilting her head quizzically.

"Cho gave me one for my birthday."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Wicked! Your very own Snitch! Will you be ready for the new Quidditch season, mate?"

Harry smiled when Ron called him 'mate'. _Back to normal, I guess._ "Hopefully, yes. As for the summer, I was at Hogwarts, training with Cho and Professor Stormfury."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Training, Harry? You can't possibly be thinking about going after V-Voldemort!" she said, sorrow in her voice.

"For the moment, no," Harry said, shaking his head, watching the expressions of his friends turn to terror. "But the Death Eaters could attack at any time, just like in Diagon Alley, and Dumbledore wanted me to be prepared." _Dumbledore_, Harry thought bitterly. Once again, the elderly sage was missing from the staff table. _All this time, I've been manipulated into a weapon by him. Well, I'm not going to be treated like his guard dog anymore. When he comes back, he'll have to learn that._

"But what was Cho doing here?" Ginny asked, leaning forward inquisitively.

"Training with me. Dumbledore invited her here too." _I shouldn't tell them about the prophecies_, he thought. _Just to keep them safe. If Voldemort captured them to get the prophecies, I could never forgive myself_.

Before Ginny could question him further, Ron asked, "What did you do in your training, mate?"

"Some new curses. Lots of training with weapons, swords mainly. And," Harry replied, lowering his voice to a whisper, "some wandless magic."

Hermione gasped. "_Wandless_ magic? Oh, Harry, that's incredible! Wandless magic is incredibly advanced," she squealed in excitement. "How did you do it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's complex, 'Mione, I don't think I could teach it to you. Besides, I've only used it once or twice, and it wasn't very controlled."

Ron grinned from ear to ear, saying, "How about you show us an example? Come on, Harry, just a bit."

Hermione turned on Ron, her face flushed with excitement and aggravation in equal measure. "Ron!" she snapped. "Wandless magic is nothing to be toyed with!"

"Come on, 'Mione, don't be so uptight."

"Uptight? What do you mean, _uptight_?"

As Ron and Hermione bickered amongst themselves, Harry got a look at his timetable for the day.

_N.E.W.T-level Potions_

_N.E.W.T-level Charms_

_N.E.W.T-level Care of Magical Creatures_

_Lunch_

_N.E.W.T-level Transfiguration_

_N.E.W.T-level Defence Against the Dark Arts_

Potions was first. Harry had no idea what deity he had pissed off to receive that class first thing in the morning. Snape was bound to make Harry's life hell, but he resolved to not let the Potions Master get under his skin.

Next was Charms. Professor Flitwick was known for being friendly and helpful, and Harry scored an O in Charms during his O.W.L's. He would have little trouble there.

Care of Magical Creatures would be enjoyable. Harry worried, thought, about which obscenely dangerous beast Hagrid would be bringing in this year. The kind half-giant loved monstrous creatures, the deadlier, the better. Only last year, Hagrid had brought a baby giant named Grawp with him back to Hogwarts, "baby" being a relative term, as Grawp was the size of a small cabin.

Transfiguration, in the afternoon, would be one of the more difficult classes. His O.W.L. results in the class were pretty good, but the subject was a tricky one on the whole. McGonagall was a strict and demanding teacher, but one that knew what she was doing.

Finally, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry laughed to himself. The entire summer had been one massive DADA lesson, and he had learned more in those two months with Stormfury than a year under Umbridge, testament to the Shadow Hunter's skill as a teacher. Afterwards, Harry was done for the day, having only five classes. He didn't take Divination, since the ability to see the future through a chicken's entrails wasn't required to be an Auror. Astronomy also wasn't required to become an Auror, nor was Herbology.

Hermione glanced over at his timetable. "Potions, huh?" she asked, looking up at Harry's face.

"Snape will be in a foul mood, probably," Harry grumbled. He turned back to his friends. "Listen, everybody, I'm sorry about what happened in Diagon Alley. It's-"

Ron cut him off. "You don't have to apologize for anything, mate. Even though I'd been a total prat, you came back for me when the Death Eaters attacked. We should be apologizing to you. I'm not entirely sure about Cho, but she can't be too bad if you're back with her."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "If you trust Cho, then I trust her. What about you, Gin?"

Ginny's face turned red as all eyes looked towards her. "Sure, I guess," she mumbled, averting her gaze from Harry's.

First class, Potions. Finishing his breakfast, Harry headed down to the dungeons, sitting next to Hermione, observing Snape's expression change to one of shock when he walked in. The greasy-haired Potions Master stared at Harry, mouth open in surprise. Harry grinned to himself. _Thought you could get rid of me that easily, could you?_

With a wave of his wand, Snape wrote a series of complex instructions on the board, before addressing the students. "Welcome to N.E.W.T-level Potions," Snape said, his voice oozing with contempt. "And I regret to say that I am surprised that some of you have managed to scrape the grades together needed to enter this class. Some of you are here because you have talent in the subtle arts of potion-brewing," he said, his gaze focusing on Malfoy, "while some are in utter denial of their lack of skills." For a moment, Harry felt Snape's eyes on him, and his face turned into a twisted sneer.

"Today, we shall be making Tranquility Potions, used by Healers to relax a patient's muscles and render them immobile. The instructions are on the board. Gather your ingredients and start working!" he snapped, turning towards Harry and Hermione. "As for you, Ms. Granger, you won't be helping Potter this time. You'll be partnered with Ms. Parkinson. Potter, team up with Ms. Zabini."

"But, Professor-"

"Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying my instructions, Ms. Granger," Snape interjected. "Now, get moving. That goes double for you, Potter!"

Harry gritted his teeth. _Slimy git_, he thought, watching Snape bully the class into submission. "And where is Ms. Zabini?" he asked the brooding Potions Master. Snape responded by pointing to one of the desks. Walking over, his textbooks slung over his shoulder, Harry sat down beside her. He had only seen her a few times before, most notably at the Sorting when he first came to Hogwarts, maybe once or twice in class. He couldn't even remember an occasion when he had spoken to her.

Behind him, Malfoy chuckled. "Potter's got the Ice Queen!" he whispered. Beside him, Goyle applied ice to a massive bruise, testament to the solidness of Crabbe's head. "Have fun, Potty!" Draco hissed, chuckling to himself.

Blaise looked up at Harry. "How about you get the ingredients while I copy down the notes, alright Potter?" she said calmly, staring at the board. The Slytherin girl barely acknowledged Harry's presence, merely jotting down the instructions.

Shaking his head, Harry gathered the supplies. Returning back to table, he took a good look at Blaise, who was copying down the last of the instructions. Her blond hair flowed down her back like a river of gold, and her pale skin gave her an aristocratic look. Bright blue eyes, filled with intelligence and cunning, drank in every detail before her. Harry was amazed by her beauty, having seen only ugliness and hate amongst the other Slytherin girls. _Get a hold of yourself, Harry!_ he thought, mentally slapping himself for thinking about her that way._ She's pretty, yes, but Cho is ten times as beautiful. Besides, she's a Slytherin!_

Silently, the two began to work on the potion, with Malfoy and his cronies muttering behind them. Blaise proved to be a diligent and skilled, although distant, partner; only speaking to Harry when necessary. After a while working on the potion, Harry began to understand why Malfoy called her the Ice Queen. She was very intelligent, but not much of a conversationalist, and treated Harry with a mild neglect, if not ignoring him.

One hour and 30 points from Gryffindor later, Harry corked the opening of the sample flask, filled with a clear-green solution, and presented it on Snape's desk. The Potions Master sneered, "So, Potter, how many strings did you pull to get into this class? A favour from the Minister, perhaps? Merlin knows how many rules you've broken already."

Harry paid no attention to Snape's biting remarks. "I just worked hard, Professor. That's all there is to it."

As Harry went back to his desk, the sound of shattering crystal could be heard. Turning around, his worst fears were confirmed. The sample flask was broken on the floor, lying in a pool of potion, having "accidentally" fallen. Snape's lips curled up into a vicious smile. "Unfortunately, not hard enough, Potter. Your innate clumsiness hasn't improved, I see. Since you have no sample to give me, that means no-"

"Wait a moment, Professor." Blaise's voice cut through the air before an argument could erupt. "I have additional samples with me, just in case," she declared, displaying two more flasks filled with Tranquility Potion. Every eye in the class focused on her. Snape's jaw dropped. Behind them, Malfoy looked like he had heard Christmas was cancelled. Hermione giggled at seeing Snape's plan foiled.

Blaise ignored the stares of the other students. "Now, Professor Snape, please try to be careful with these, crystal is very expensive to replace," she said, her voice full of sarcasm. "And don't shake them around too much, Tranquility Potion will separate and become useless if stirred. But it's alright, _accidents_ happen all the time."

Snape's face turned red, and Harry could see veins bulge in anger on his neck. "Do you presume to instruct the Potions Master on how to prepare potions?" he inquired, his voice deathly quiet and menacing.

The willowy Slytherin shook her head. "No, I'm just making sure that my marks are graded. If that's alright, _Professor_."

Snape pounded his hands on the desk before snatching the flasks from Blaise's grasp. "See me after class, Ms. Zabini. The rest of you, get out! Out!" he screamed, while Harry and the other students grabbed their things and beat a hasty retreat from the classroom.

Harry caught up with Hermione in the dungeon corridor. "Did you see that?" he asked, bewildered by Blaise's actions. "Snape looked like he was going to blow a gasket!"

Hermione laughed despite herself. "Finally, someone showed that greasy git up. Who is that girl, Harry? I haven't heard much about her before."

"I think I've seen her in some of our classes before," Harry stated, running a hand through his hair. _Why did she defend me?_ he thought, listening to Hermione's words. "It's really the first time I've actually done any work with her," he said, pausing for a moment. "Listen, 'Mione, I'm really sorry about-"

Hermione interrupted him. "It's okay, Harry. That was nice of you, though, apologizing to the others. Besides," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, "it's none of our business who you're going out with. Just as long as you're happy. Now let's stop all this fighting, and head up to Charms."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, 'Mione. You go ahead, I need to do something."

"You sure, Harry? You don't want to be late for class," Hermione said.

"Don't worry, 'Mione. Snape let us out early, I'll have time."

"Okay," Hermione said, walking out of the dungeons, her bushy hair seen over the crowds of students leaving the dungeon. Harry stood beside the Potions classroom, hearing Snape's angry ranting behind the solid oak doors for the next several minutes. _Why did she help me?_ Harry wondered, arms crossed along his chest. Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses were rivals, ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. Hell, since the days of the Founders themselves, Gryffindor and Slytherin were at odds. Slytherin House was Gryffindor's main rival in Quidditch. Malfoy and his goons harboured a grudge against Harry since when they first met on the train. The list of grievances between the two houses was endless.

And yet, Blaise had helped Harry. Despite the fact that Snape always turned a blind eye to the misdeeds of the Slytherins, and did all he could to keep the other Houses down, Blaise had turned against him, siding with the old enemies of her House instead.

The doors slammed open and Blaise walked out, her face twisted in anger, tying her flowing hair into a ponytail as she walked. "Hey, Blaise," Harry called, trying to grab her attention. "Hey, Blaise!"

She turned on him, snarling, "What is it, Potter? Shouldn't you be off with Weasley and Granger?"

"Why did you help me?" Harry asked, moving towards the pretty Slytherin.

Blaise snorted in frustration. "Because it was my mark too, Potter. Snape was over the line, that's all. Now bugger off!" she shouted, pushing him away.

Harry stumbled backwards, shocked by her brashness. "I'm sorry, Blaise," he muttered. "I just didn't know. I assumed you were one of Malfoy's friends."

"There's your problem, Potter," Blaise snapped, her hard blue eyes staring daggers at Harry. "You _assumed_. You and the rest of the Dream Team automatically assume that just because I'm a Slytherin, I'm best friends with that prick. Or that I look up to Snape like some kind of _father_. That's Gryffindors, I guess. All frontal assault, kill-first, ask-questions-never."

Harry shirked back from her vicious verbal assault. _Is that what we're really like?_ Harry thought, his mind reeling. _I did that in the Department of Mysteries, and look what happened to Sirius..._ Unconsciously, Harry felt tears well up, and he slid down to the floor, his back against the dungeon wall. _Calm down, Harry. It's not your fault._

"Potter? Harry?" Blaise asked, dropping her books beside her. "What's wrong?"

Harry reined in the urge to retort back, but he resisted. _She doesn't know about Sirius. Let's keep it that way._ "Nothing," he replied, gathering his things. "Sorry to bother you, Blaise."

* * *

Shaken by his incident with Blaise, Harry went into his other classes with doubt gnawing away inside him. Was he really like that? Was Gryffindor House really like that? Harry had always seen his House as a shining example for the others, where heroes were made and people were willing to stand up for themselves. Slytherin was the exact opposite, with pureblood supremacists dominating the House, willing to do whatever it took to win. However, Blaise had spoke of a darker side to the Gryffindors, a more reckless side. Harry wondered what the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs thought of him and his House. 

He pushed the thoughts away, furious with himself for allowing Blaise to weaken him. _I've failed in the past, but I'm not some spoiled git like Malfoy. What does Blaise know about me, or the other Gryffindors?_

In Charms, Professor Flitwick tutored the students on the basics of Apparation. "Apparation is a very complex process," the tiny Head of Ravenclaw squeaked, addressing the class. "If the charm goes wrong, the consequences can be very painful and deadly. You cannot Apparate just with the word, you must concentrate, visualize the destination, and focus the whole of your efforts on the charm. Hopefully, by the end of this year, you will learn how to Apparate in time for your test."

Care of Magical Creatures was next. "T'deh," Hagrid boomed, pointing to the petit creature emerging from the trees, "we'll be studyin' Dryads."

The Dryad took the form of a woman, with skin a shining green, her hair black like rich soil, and a lithe figure. The tree Spirit generated an aura of peace and contentment around it, its presence banishing away fear and despair. Its blue eyes focused on Harry with vivid intensity. _Just like Blaise_, Harry thought, _so lively and beaut-WHAT? Get a grip, Harry! Cho's the only girl for you! You're betraying her by thinking about Blaise like that!_

"Come on now," Hagrid shouted, waving several of the more timid students closer. "Nuthin' to be afeard of." He then went on to talk about the magical properties of Dryads, like the regenerative nature of their bodies, and how they are bound to the life-force of a particular tree. "If the tree is cut 'own," Hagrid explained, "then the Dryad dies. Sad, ain't it?"

In Transfiguration, McGonagall started quickly, showing the class how to turn a hedgehog into a feather pillow. By the end of the class, Harry had managed to complete the transformation, although the pillow still had an odd quill poking out. Only Hermione achieved success, as expected, with Harry and Ron close behind.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, finally!" Ron shouted, as the trio made their way towards the classroom. "You sure he's a good teacher, Harry?" he asked, nervous anticipation in his voice.

"Don't worry, Ron. Professor Stormfury knows what he's doing. He's not Umbridge, you know," Harry replied.

Hermione exhaled a breath of relief. "Thank goodness. Honestly, did that woman really expect us to learn curses without practicing them? She probably ruined a lot of students with her teaching method, those not in the D.A. Why, if I even see her again, I'll give her a piece of my mind, that's for sure!"

Harry laughed, seeing Hermione's face turn red as she ranted. "Calm down, 'Mione," he said jokingly. "You'll have plenty of time to practice curses. And trust me, this guy hates the Ministry just as much as you do."

Finally, the trio entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The damage caused by Harry's Elementalism miscast had been repaired, and the class looked surprisingly different than in previous years. The giant skeleton that hung from the ceiling had been removed, and the assorted trinkets and baubles scattered around the class were gone. Instead, a traditional duelling strip sat in the centre of the classroom, with desks on either side. A rack of bokken, the wooden Japanese training swords, hung from a wall. Sunlight filtered in through the open windows, and calm summer breezes wafted in from outside, mingling with the sweet scent of burning incense, opening Harry's pores and clearing his lungs. Stormfury sat in the middle of the duelling strip, eyes closed, brow furrowed, chanting mantras to aid in meditation. Even in this relaxed state, Harry had no doubt that the Shadow Hunter could deal with any threat in an instant.

"Come in, children," Stormfury murmured. "Take a seat. We will begin today's lesson shortly."

Sitting at one of the desks, Harry watched the other students come in. To his delight, the majority were members of the D.A., including Cho, who flashed him a bright smile as she came in, her raven-black hair shining in the light. A smattering of Slytherins lead by Malfoy came in together, Malfoy sneering unpleasantly as Parkinson held onto his hand. Harry even saw Blaise come in, and quickly looked away, rather than think about her again.

Cho sat down beside Harry and his friends. "Hey, Harry," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, everyone."

"Hello, Cho," Hermione replied, while Ron grunted in response.

Cho leaned over to Harry; whispering into his ear, "Guess they don't totally trust me."

Harry kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, Cho. They will in time," he said, catching the scent of- lilacs?- in her hair. He looked over to Michael Corner and Marietta Edgecombe, who were sitting together with some of the other Ravenclaws. Michael glanced over at Harry's table, his face hard-bitten with jealously, the badge of the Head Boy pinned to the front of his Ravenclaw robes. Marietta looked at Harry with obvious distaste, and turned away haughtily. _Great, the Head Boy and Cho's best friend hate me for being with her._ "What about your friends?" Harry asked.

Cho snorted in disgust. "Screw them, Harry. They don't approve, but I don't care. Let's not worry about them."

Meanwhile, as the last student arrived, Stormfury stood up and addressed the class, the gold runes on his robes glittering in the sunlight. "Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said, his keen gaze looking around the room. "My name is Daelin Stormfury, your new Defence professor. And, I assure you, I'll be much better than your last one."

Chuckles burst from the D.A. members, while the Slytherins looked around nervously. Stormfury smiled before continuing. "Miss. Umbridge and myself have very different teaching styles. It is my belief that you should get as much real-life experience as possible, besides theoretical work. To that end, you will be learning a variety of new curses and duelling techniques to use against real opponents, not pixies and Red Caps. You will learn how to defend yourself against a variety of Dark wizards and Dark creatures, and learn how to use various fighting styles to defeat them. You will be studying famous Dark wizards and witches, and how they became that way. You will learn _why_ people turn to the Dark Arts, not just how to beat them. Knowledge of one's enemy is vital. Remember that."

All around Harry, the students whispered and muttered to each other nervously. Malfoy and the Slytherins chuckled to themselves. Harry felt his hate for the spoiled Slytherin growing by the minute. _Hoping to join your daddy and Voldemort?_ he thought. There was little doubt in Harry's mind that Draco was planning on becoming a Death Eater like his father.

Stormfury picked up a textbook, the official, Ministry-approved one used by Umbridge last year. "In this class, I only ask three things from you. Three simple principles that will guide you through this course. First, you do your best on any assignments or projects I hand out. If you are having trouble, I will be available to help you. If, for some reason, I am not, ask one of your fellow students. There are some very talented duellists in this class-" Stormfury's gaze focused on Harry and Cho for a moment, "-and I'm certain they can help." His grip on the textbook tightened.

"Second, keep an open mind. Many of my lessons may seem unusual or strange, but I teach them for good reasons, so pay attention. Finally," Stormfury said, with every eye in the room paying close attention, "you see that I have broken down House lines in this class. We have Gryffindors and Slytherins working alongside Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. That is because you are _Hogwarts_," he exclaimed, hitting his fist on the table. "There will be no House rivalries in this class. You may find yourselves working with members of another House at a point. And I tell you now, should the enemy reach the gates of this school, you must either stand together, or fall." With a quick phrase, the textbook started to smoke and sizzle in Stormfury's hand. After a moment, it flared into ash, flames licking the pages. The students jumped back in their seats, startled by the sudden display of power, muttering to themselves in fear when his back was turned.

"Today," Stormfury barked, "we will be doing some duelling practice. As I understand it, many of you have had experience duelling before?" Heads nodded in affirmation around the room. "Good. Duelling will compose a large part of this course, as it's important for you to be able to defend yourselves. Can I have two volunteers to come up, and give us a demonstration? How about Mr. Weasley and... Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy grinned to himself. "That should be easy, Professor. Weasel here has about as much talent as he does gold, which isn't much." Laughter broke out from the Slytherins as Malfoy walked into the duelling strip. "How about I show you how a _real_ pure-blood duels? I'll be sending you home to your cow of a mother before the end of the day!"

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!" Stormfury snapped. "Personal comments like that only show me its _you_ that do not have skill. The strength of a real warrior lies with actions and honour, not with foolish bravado."

Ron gritted his teeth, and rose out of his seat, his fists clenched and face red in rage. "Good luck, Ron," Harry said, watching his friend move towards the front.

"I don't need luck to wipe the smirk off of that git's face," Ron growled, reaching for his wand.

"Take him down, Ron!" Dean shouted as he walked past.

"Show him who's boss!" Parvati encouraged.

"Go Ron!" Cho shouted, much to Harry's amazement. Within moments, the assembled Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs began to chant, "Ron, Ron, Ron..." The youngest of the Weasley sons reached the ring, and stood across from Malfoy, flexing his fingers as if preparing to strangle the spoiled Slytherin.

"Gentlemen," Stormfury said, looking at the two students, "you may begin."

With incredible speed, Ron had his wand out and aimed at Malfoy. "_Stupefy!_"

Malfoy barely managed to dodge Ron's curse, before sending another in response, his face contorted in anger. "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protogo!_" Ron conjured a Shield Charm around himself, blocking Malfoy's attack with ease. "_Reducto!_" The Reductor Curse narrowly missed Malfoy, sending chips of stone flying as it hit the wall. The two combatants faced each other like starving wolves, watching the other warily, preparing to pounce if they saw weakness.

"Not so easy without your goons to help you out, is it, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, his eyes drilling holes through the Slytherin.

Malfoy spat on the ground. "I can take you, Weasley, just watch!"

Harry eyed the standoff with baited breath. Malfoy looked scared, his face paler than normal. The blond Slytherin usually confronted Harry and his friends with a cadre of other Slytherins backing him up, and wasn't used to fighting alone. He was trying to build up his courage to strike, now that Ron had weathered his first attacks without difficultly. Ron, however, was maddened by Malfoy's comments, and was barely keeping himself from charging forward and pounding him into dust. _If Ron keeps his cool, he'll be able to win this_, Harry thought. _If he does something rash, Malfoy might catch him off guard. Patience, Ron, patience. Malfoy will do something stupid, and then you'll have him._

Harry could not have been more correct in his estimation, for Malfoy did something really stupid just then. "Your sister's a really nice piece of work," Malfoy whispered, goading Ron on. "Too bad she's a Muggle-lover, but at least she's a pure-blood, and a pretty one at that. Probably a beast in bed too."

Ron's eyes filled with homicidal rage. "Don't you dare talk about her THAT WAY!" he screamed, leaping forward like a rampaging bull. "_REDUCTO!_"

The curse smashed into Malfoy faster than the eye could see, taking him off his feet and sending him into the wall with a dull thud. Malfoy struggled to stay upright, the wind knocked out of him. "_REDUCTO!_" Ron's next curse slammed him in the face, causing blood to pour from his nose like a tap. "_Accio wand!_" The Slytherin's wand flew into Ron's hand, ending the duel.

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindors as Ron stood victorious. In the back of the class, Blaise chuckled softly to herself. "Ten points to Gryffindor," Stormfury intoned, moving over to Malfoy. "No need to beat him up, Mr. Weasley, you've already won. Now, tell me, Mr. Malfoy, why did you lose?"

The blond Slytherin gasped for breath. "He broke my node," he said, his words slurred due to his damaged nose. "Bloody bastard broke my node."

"I'll bloody crucify you if you talk about Ginny that way again, you slimy, Death Eater motherf-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," Stormfury said calmly, holding up a hand to silence the hot-headed Gryffindor. "Overconfidence, Mr. Malfoy, lead to your downfall. Now, head down to Madame Pomfrey's and get fixed up. We might be having a lot of that in this class."

Malfoy moaned as he walked down the hall, Crabbe supporting him. Parkinson screeched, "That's not fair, Professor! Weasley cheated!"

"On the contrary, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Weasley won fair and square. However, can anyone show the class some more advanced duelling techniques? Mr. Potter, Ms. Chang, could you enlighten us?"

For a moment, Harry froze. _Is asking me to duel Cho?_ He felt Cho's hand grasp his. "Come on, Harry, let's give them something to talk about," she whispered into his ear.

"Sure," came Harry's response.

Moving to the duelling strip, Harry and Cho faced one another, holding their arms loosely at their sides, readying themselves for Stormfury's signal to begin. Harry looked into Cho's beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. He remembered her words from the night before. _Don't go easy on me. Play like you would play anyone else._ Harry took several deep breaths, his body and mind as taunt as a bowstring, letting all other thoughts escape his mind. Only one remained. _Win_.

"Begin!" Stormfury shouted.

Almost instantly, Harry and Cho had their wands out, drawing them with incredible speed. "_Stupefy!_" Cho shouted, firing off a curse at Harry. Harry dived to one side and replied with a Stunning Curse of his own. Cho leapt out of its path, launching several Reductor Curses in quick succession, forcing Harry to drop to the ground in order to evade them.

Harry stood back up, running to the left. "_Bludgeous!_" The black sphere hurtled towards Cho, who cast a Shield Charm, nullifying it before it reached her.

"_Bludgeous!_" Another Projectile Hex sped towards Cho with the force of a cinderblock. Cho somersaulted backwards, raising her wand in mid-air. "_Reducto!_"

"_Protego!_" Harry's Shield Charm came up, dispelling Cho's attack instantly, before dodging another curse that followed on the heels of the first.

Sweat dripped from Harry's brow, but he paid no attention to it, concentrating on winning the duel. He felt his mind detach from the world around him for a moment, almost as if his body was on auto-pilot. Every action was reflex, every movement was fluid, the dance of curse and counter-curse. Outside the duelling strip, nothing existed, no Voldemort, no students, nothing but the thrill of battle as he duelled with the woman he loved, neither able to overcome the other. Time passed, how long Harry couldn't be sure, caught in the machine-like routine of curse, dodge and curse again.

"_Concussionus!_" both Harry and Cho screamed simultaneously, leaping forward. The Blasting Curses impacted with a thunderous crack, the shockwave knocking the two Champions head over heels and onto their backs.

Jumping back up, Cho raised her wand, not at Harry, but at the rack of wooden swords. "_Accio bokken!_" One of the swords was ripped from the rack, and flew into Cho's outstretched hand. Tracing a line on the duelling strip, she turned to face Harry, her chest heaving in exertion.

"_Accio bokken!_" Another bokken flew through the air, this time into Harry's hand. Pocketing his wand, he held the polished oak sword in a tight two-handed grip and gave Cho a warrior's salute.

The entire class released the collective breath of air as the two combatants charged each other, wielding their swords with deadly skill. Although made of oak and without any edge or point, the bokken could still do damage if it connected. Harry thrust forward towards Cho's chest, using his sword like a lance. Cho parried the blow, spinning around and bringing her sword down at Harry's back. Harry ducked, hearing the whoosh overhead, then stabbed upwards, aiming for her midsection. Cho blocked Harry's attack, and leaned in, pushing her sword forward, knocking him on his arse.

Harry sprung back up and pressed the attack, striking with quick jabs and slashes, seeking a weak point in Cho's defences. Cho parried these attacks, then stepped forward, slashing violently, the sound of wood slamming against wood echoing throughout the room. The bokken became a living thing in Cho's hands, striking with the speed of a serpent, forcing Harry on the defensive. The spectators could barely see the sword, moving so fast as it was, jabbing and cutting. Harry blocked a massive downward cut and pushed her away, his sword sweeping in a tight arc towards her neck. The Ravenclaw beauty dodged out of the path of the blow with a spinning leap, her hair falling out of her ponytail and streaming behind her.

It was sensual in some ways, this duel. Harry smelled Cho's sweet perfume, watched her body writhe and twist as she tried to take the advantage. She flashed him a wicked smile as she came at him, sword thrusting towards his belly. Both their bodies were sweating from the massive exertions of the combat, giving their foreheads a distinct sheen. Cho whirled around, using the momentum to add power to her blow, her hair flowing like a river of midnight. Harry held his sword vertically, the impact running down the length of the wood, rattling his bones.

_Time to end this_, Harry thought. He charged forward, his sword pointed low. As Cho's bokken whistled towards his head, he ducked, ran underneath her guard, and stood back up behind and to the left of her, his sword lightly touching her throat.

"You're dead, my love," he whispered, inhaling the scent of her hair.

He felt the tip of Cho's sword touch his groin. "You too, lover-boy," Cho whispered condescendingly. "Look down."

Looking down, Harry gasped. At the same time as he had scored the winning blow against Cho, she had reversed her sword so it was pointing towards her, and thrust backwards behind her, lightly touching Harry's crotch. If that had been a real sword, Harry would have been killed, or even worse, unmanned. He looked back up. "That's wasn't very nice!" he exclaimed, withdrawing his sword.

Stormfury came up to them. "Thirty points to both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, for an amazing duel. Now," he said, addressing the class, "does anyone have any questions about duelling?"

Harry could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. The majority of the D.A. members were awestruck by what they had seen, some even clapped and whistled at the pair. The Slytherins were utterly freaked out, fear and surprise written all over their faces. Parkinson was as white as a ghost, and her jaw had dropped wide enough to drive a carriage through. Michael Corner's eyes were frightened as he looked upon Cho, perhaps seeing a side of her that he hadn't before. Ron was chuckling half-heartedly to himself, while Hermione look flustered by the sudden turn of events, but she raised her hand anyway. "Uh, Harry, just out of curiousity, how did you _do that?_"

Harry chuckled despite himself. "Just with practice, 'Mione."

"Obviously, I'm not expecting you to fight at that level right away, but with practice, you can." Stormfury said, directing Harry and Cho to their seats. For the rest of the class, Stormfury reviewed tactics to use in duelling, what spells to use in a particular situation, etc. The students sat rapt with attention, copying down notes, listening to the veteran Shadow Hunter teach them how to fight. For Harry and Cho, this was mostly review from what they had learned during the summer, but they listened anyway.

The final bell rang, and the students began to leave the class, chatting excitedly to themselves about what they had learned. "Mr. Potter, would you mind staying for a moment?" Stormfury called.

Harry turned to Cho. "Sorry, Cho," he whispered, kissing her, feeling her perfect, full lips. "I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

Cho smiled, looking into his emerald-green eyes. "That's alright, my love. Great duel, by the way."

Harry blushed despite himself. "Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself." Squeezing her hand for a moment, he turned and returned to the class, where Stormfury observed him with quiet respect.

"Potter, that was brilliant!" he exclaimed, picking up one of the bokken they had used. "Did you two plan it ahead of time?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Professor, not really. We just fought each other like we would have fought anyone else," he replied, echoing Cho's words.

Stormfury chuckled. "Good job, Potter. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your Occlumency training. It starts tonight."

"Tonight, Professor? Where? Who?"

"Her name is Avalon, Mr. Potter. She's a Spirit Walker, personally trained by the Grand Master Seros himself; he's the leader of the Spirit Walkers. They're another one of the factions within the Council, they're seers, scholars and philosophers. They spend much of their time cataloguing the history of our people and searching the streams of Fate.

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do they search for?"

"Answers, Mr. Potter, answers to questions that have been asked throughout the ages. Meet her at the top of the North Tower at eight tonight. She's rather anxious to met the fabled Daemonslayer."

"She knows about the prophecy?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

Stormfury smiled. "Knows about it? She divined it. Good luck, Mr. Potter."

* * *

Five minutes before eight, Harry stood in front of the tower's steps, trying to calm himself down. All throughout dinner, he could hardly eat a bit. He had completed his homework in record time, then raced through the corridors, until he arrived here, at the old North Tower, one of the largest in the castle, with butterflies in his stomach and his curiosity screaming for satisfaction. He hadn't felt this jittery since he asked Cho out to the Yule Ball in his fourth year. 

_Calm down!_ he ordered himself, but he couldn't. The possibilities were too great. Dumbledore had spoken highly of this Avalon, and Stormfury said that she had been trained by the leader of the Spirit Walkers, so her powers in Occlumency must be good. After all this waiting and struggling to succeed in Occlumency, he had a chance, a chance to get Voldemort out of his head forever. Sirius' death, his miscast the day before his birthday, such events would never happen again.

And there was something else. Stormfury told him that the Spirit Walkers were expert seers. If that was true, than perhaps Harry could discover what was going to happen between him and Voldemort. He could avoid any mistakes, and prevent others from dying because of him. The possibilities were endless. Yet, a nagging doubt remained. _Don't toy with things beyond your understanding._

As he waited, the door to the North Tower opened. "Come here, young Daemonslayer, come here. I've been expecting you," came the voice, soft as the breeze and as sweet and chocolate.

Entranced by the ghostly voice, Harry had no choice but to obey.

* * *

Blaise Zabini spoke the password, "Poison teeth," and entered the Slytherin Common Room. The dungeons were as dank and forbidding as usual, but this was home for Blaise, as moldy as it was. All around Blaise, the Slytherins engaged in their usual activities, homework, bullying the first-years, and plotting revenge... 

The willowy beautiful Slytherin went straight for her dormitory, ignoring the cat-calls and suggestive comments that followed her, spoken by hot-blooded Slytherin boys who were under the distinct impression that they were worthy of a woman's affection. Blaise deposited her books on her silken four-poster bed, going through what work she had to do. An essay for Transfiguration, due next Thursday, reporting on her successes and failures of today's lesson. Deciphering a page of cuniform script for Ancient Runes. A three-foot long Potions essay, assigned by Snape as punishment for her outburst, on the importance of respecting one's elders and betters. Blaise laughed to herself. _He may be my elder, but he's definitely not my better_.

Shaking her head, she decided to skip the homework, and move on to other matters. Checking to make sure that no one was in the dorm, she locked the doors, and moved to a small cabinet beside her bed. None of the other girls would mind. Pansy was probably off snogging Draco, and the other girls could work in the common room.

Opening the bottom drawer of the cabinet, she uncovered a large box, made of pinewood, the latch designed in the shape of a serpent, a common feature in the dungeons. Touching the top of the chest, she was rewarded with a disembodied voice speaking from the latch. "Password?"

"Knowledge is power," Blaise whispered, her voice as smooth as silk. Instantly, the latches unlocked. Opening the chest, Blaise was greeted with slim folders, several dozen of them. Each one was labelled with a name and house, like _Malfoy, Draco Tiberus_. Also, they were sorted by House, the Slytherins in green folders, Gryffindors in red, and so on. At a quick glance, one could see that the majority of the folders were green, although a good number were blue, representing the Ravenclaws.

These were her information dossiers, containing important knowledge about the school's most important or influential students. Within each was the student's name, House, vital information, blood status, habits, friends, and assorted notes about their activities. In her first year at Hogwarts, Blaise had discovered that she had something of a talent for intelligence gathering. She didn't do it for blackmail purposes, unless provoked, or for some perverse pleasure. Her motives were simple survival. Her father, before he was killed by jealous business opponents, always taught her to be resourceful, to be cunning, to fight from the shadows. _Know your enemy_. Glorious acts of bravado, the kind the Gryffindors often engaged in, was a sure-fire way to get you killed.

For the majority of the student population, she was a non-entity, the pretty girl you maybe saw in the halls, but didn't really think twice about. For the staff, she was a quiet, determined student; the kind that didn't give them much trouble, just got good grades. _Of course, that's probably not true now, with Snape. Lousy git._ For those who did know her, a few amongst the Slytherins, she was known as the Ice Queen, a cold, haughty blond who didn't do any of the other things Slytherin House did, like pick fights with the Gryffindors. One of the Slytherin boys, after she turned him down to the Yule Ball in her fourth year, called her a 'first-class frigid bitch.' Thanks to her files, though, she had the last laugh. Discovering he had a crush on Pansy Parkinson, she sent an anonymous letter to Draco informing him, who promptly knocked his teeth out. Or rather, got Crabbe and Goyle to do it.

She worked alone, for the most part. Being a non-entity allowed her to slip into crowds unnoticed. When those two Gryffindors, Lavender and Parvati, gossiped amongst themselves in the halls, they paid no attention to her, dismissing her as just another Slytherin. That, combined with her powers of persuasion and a few magic trinkets she had picked up, she could find out whatever she needed to know.

Skimming through the assorted files, she drew out a single candidate. _Potter, Harry James_.

Moving to her bedside desk, she opened up the file, turning to the nearest blank page. Dipping her quill into ink, and making sure no one was watching, she began to write.

_Paired with Harry Potter in Potions, got preliminary estimate on his behaviour. He is a kind, generous person, hardworking, paid little attention to House lines._

As reported earlier, hated by Snape and Malfoy. Has no love for either of those two, or for Slytherin House as a whole. Friends seem very dedicated to him.

_Last year, leader of group known as D.A. _Malfoy had often spoken of the D.A. last year, after Dumbledore had taken the blame for Potter and was forced to flee Hogwarts. _Potter hates Slytherin House, and would be willing to fight it, no matter what. However, he is a forgiving person, and could be a useful ally if persuaded._

Recently, Potter has gotten back together with Cho Chang. All signs point to the fact that he deeply cares for her. This is a weakness that could be exploited.

Blaise stopped writing for a moment. Dipping her pen in ink, she scribbled out the last sentence, astonished that she would think that. _Potter isn't a threat, Blaise_, she thought, slamming the file shut and returning it back to the chest. _Neither is his girlfriend. They could help you, if you treat them right_. For the next few hours, she instead concentrated on her homework, forgetting about Potter or his girlfriend.

At around ten, a knock sounded on the door. Quickly, Blaise shut the chest and put it back in the cabinet. She couldn't trust the other Slytherins with the files; there was too much power in the knowledge she had gathered. While she used them merely to defend herself, if Malfoy got his hands on them, he would certainly abuse the knowledge within. Locking the cabinet shut, Blaise brushed a strand of hair from her vision and unlocked the door, to find Nott waiting impatiently, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

Nott gave a toothy grin. "Hello, Blaise. It's-"

Blaise didn't give him a chance to continue, launching into a full-blown rant. "How dare you barge into a lady's chamber like that!" she shouted, her brilliant blue eyes staring daggers at Nott. "I could have been asleep, or naked for all you know!"

Crabbe chuckled to himself. "That's what I'd like to see!" he bellowed, stepping forward, coming uncomfortably close to Blaise. "Come on, Blaise, get your knickers off! Bet you like nice under there-"

Quick as a flash, Blaise kneed Crabbe in the groin, sending him to the floor, moaning in pain. "In your dreams, Vincent. Only there," she said, faking a sweet smile. "Now, Theo. Why don't you tell me why you're here, or should I just assume you're planning on ravaging me?"

Nott stuttered for a moment before responding, "Draco wants you to join the meeting tonight."

_Ah, yes, the meeting_, Blaise thought. Draco had called a meeting for the former Inquisitorial Squad members, probably to discuss Potter. She was thankful she did her homework. "I wasn't a member of the Squad, Theo. Why does Draco want to see me?"

"He'll tell you there," was Nott's response.

For the briefest of moments, Blaise's heart turned cold with fear. Had they discovered her secret, the deepest one, the one she had hid since she had arrived at Hogwarts? She shuddered to think what would happen if they had, what tortures they would inflict on her. _Wait, Blaise. Be rational. If they had, they wouldn't have bothered with all the small talk. Malfoy would have sent in his goons and dragged you out like an animal._ She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Alright, Theo, I'll come. Kindly tell Crabbe to keep his hands off me though."

With Nott leading the way, and Crabbe and Goyle taking position beside her, Blaise headed into the Slytherin Common Room, where two dozen other Slytherins lounged on couches and loveseats, waiting for Malfoy to start the meeting. The spoiled Slytherin sat on an expensive leather chair, a martini glass cradled in his left hand and a cast over his nose. His girlfriend, Pansy, drew several bottles of vodka from a leather sack. "Everyone is present, Draco," Nott said, sitting to Malfoy's right.

Malfoy eyed Blaise expectantly. "Ah, Blaise, good of you to come. Sit down," he ordered. "Crabbe, Goyle, clear the unwanted out."

Grunting in affirmation, Crabbe and Goyle went to work, seizing any uninvited members of the House and kicked them out of the Common Room. A tiny first-year squeaked in dismay as Goyle grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him out, scattering parchment and ink. Blaise sat down in a vacant sofa-chair, crossing her long legs, her posture that of a patrician beauty. "Now, what's this about, Draco?" she purred.

The scheming Slytherin signalled Parkinson, who began pouring vodka into shot-glasses and distributing them to the assembled former Inquisitors. He turned back to Blaise, his cold grey eyes filled with malice. "Have a drink, Blaise. Now, tell me what you know about Potter."

Blaise left her drink untouched, saying, "The same that everyone else knows, Draco. He's the Boy Who Lived, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, one third of a trio, also comprising of Weasley and Granger. He's the boy the Dark Lord couldn't kill. He's the Seeker you can't beat. Even your father has had difficultly with him. What more is there to him?"

Malfoy downed the contents of the martini glass in one shot, then signalled for another. "I'll tell you what he is, Blaise. He's that orphan bastard who has foiled the Dark Lord's plans again and again. Because of him, Father was sent to Azkaban. Because of him, many of the shareholders in Father's companies have left, meaning that the Malfoy family is _losing money_," Draco said, pointing to his shabby robes, his voice becoming louder and louder. "Because of him, I have to dress like a _Weasley!_" The Slytherins muttered darkly in agreement. "Because of him, the name of the Noble House of Malfoy is tarnished. Because of him, the Noble House of Malfoy is, slowly but surely, _BECOMING POOR!_" He threw the martini glass down on the floor, breaking into a million pieces. Blaise sat stock still, her expression not changing in the slightest, as Malfoy grabbed his wand and lunged at her, placing the tip of his wand at her jugular vein.

Blaise appeared totally unfazed by Malfoy's sudden outburst, even as she felt Malfoy's hot breath on her skin. "And what does that have to do with me?" she asked.

"Because, this morning, you defended Potter in class. You took the side of a Gryffindor over the Head of this House," Malfoy hissed, grabbing her by the hair. "I want to know why."

Blaise looked into Malfoy's bloodshot eyes. "Because, Draco," she replied, her voice as sweet as honey, "Professor Snape hurt my marks too. I merely want to make sure I pass the course. Slytherins shouldn't be fighting each other. We should be fighting the Gryffindors." _Why couldn't we see this coming?_ Blaise thought, starting to get nervous. _All those years ago, why didn't we recognize Draco for what he is, a spoiled, spineless brat? Why didn't we put him in his place, instead of letting his money and family connections seduce us? Why didn't we abandoned the notion that we had to be Death Eaters, and follow a path of our own choosing, free from the Dark Lord? How better things would be._

"Are you a loyal member of Slytherin House?" Malfoy barked, startling her from her reverie. "Can you truly call yourself one of us?" He gestured around the room at the other Slytherins, each staring at Blaise in anticipation.

"Of course," Blaise coolly replied. _No, Draco, I'm not you. I'm better than you. I have ambition and cunning, the true qualities of our House, something you never will have._

Nott put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "Come on, Draco, Blaise is loyal. Let's stop fighting amongst ourselves, and find a way to get to Potter."

Malfoy shook his head, as if he was in a daze. "Yes, Potter, of course. How are we going to pay that son of a Gryffindor bitch back?" he snarled, releasing her and slumping back into his chair. Immediately, eager suggestions popped up from the Slytherins, while Pansy poured Malfoy another drink.

"Ambush him in the halls!"

"Knock him off his broom!"

"Spike his pumpkin juice with potion!"

Inwardly, Blaise laughed to herself. _You call yourself Slytherin? Those are the most unoriginal plans I've ever heard!_

Parkinson leapt up from serving Malfoy. "I've got it! We kidnap Chang!" she declared with an evil smile.

The room fell silent as Pansy continued. "Chang is Potter's girlfriend. We kidnap her, and threaten to kill her if Potter doesn't come quietly. Then, once he's here, we kill them both!" she crowed venomously.

Nott looked around nervously. "Are you _insane_, woman?" he asked, horror in his face. "In case you were asleep during Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potter and Chang duelled for about fifteen minutes non-stop. They used spells I haven't even heard of. They used _swords_, Pansy, wooden ones, but they could use real ones just as well. Trying to kidnap Chang and ambush Potter is suicide!" Around him, many of the Slytherins voiced their disapproval.

"Coward!" Pansy howled. "We can do it, I know we can!"

"Alright, Pansy," Nott retorted, his voice shrill with fear, "if we do kidnap them, then what? Potter has an army on his side, the D.A, remember from last year. With a word, he'll send them after us. Secondly, he'll know it's us! Who else would try something like this? Then, there are the teachers, they'll come looking for us, especially that Stormfury. I wouldn't want to cross him on a dark night!"

Pansy rushed over to Malfoy's side, bowing before him. "Draco, sweetie, we can do it!" she pleaded, "When we do, you'll be more famous than the Dark Lord! You, Draco Malfoy, will have killed the Boy Who Lived. Even Voldemort will bow down before you!" At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, the Slytherins shuddered despite themselves. Even Blaise, normally calm and calculating, felt her skin crawl at his name. _Oh God, they're actually going to go through with it!_

Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Get to work on a plan. When everything is ready, we'll strike and capture that Ravenclaw bitch before she knows what hit her. Potter will fall like a dead twig once she's ours." He raised his glass. "Victory to Slytherin House!"

"Victory!" the Slytherins cried, raising their glasses skyward and taking a deep drink. Blaise joined them, tendrils of horror gripping her heart. _Malfoy's gone insane to agree to this! And everyone is going with it! Kidnap and murder, my God. Have we fallen so far?_

As the meeting disbanded, Blaise hurried back to her dorm, feeling almost soiled to hear the conspiracy. She sat on her bed, trying to comprehend the scale of what she had just heard. _It'll take some time to get everything ready, time I can use to warn them._ She didn't particularly like Potter or Chang, but she had no desire to have blood on her hands. She couldn't tell the Headmaster, he was away. The other teachers probably wouldn't believe her, and if Snape heard, he'd turn a blind eye.

At that moment, Blaise made a choice. A choice that would shape her life for years to come. _Side with my House, or side with what's right. Either stay with the wolves, or hunt with the sheep. There's no middle ground. _****


	11. Whispers and Wind

**Chapter 11: Whispers and Wind**

Harry ascended the steps of the North Tower, the sound of each footfall magnified by the silence of the tower, echoing around him. A cold breeze filtered through the stone edifice, causing Harry to shiver, wrapping his cloak around him. The dampness of the walls and the dim light of the torches added to the heavy feeling of misery encompassing the tower.

Suddenly, the sound of a flute pierced through the silence, trilling softly in the darkness, its sweet sound like a lure, drawing Harry towards the top. _First mysterious voices, then music,_ Harry thought, resting his weary legs for a moment before continuing. He was starting to feel like a victim of the Pied Piper.

Wood creaked as Harry threw open the trapdoor leading to the top. He gasped. The ceiling of the tower had been enchanted like the Great Hall to show the night sky, the stars moving as if real. A still basin of water had been placed on the middle of the room. Sweet-smelling incense filled the room, and the trilling melodies of the flute left Harry feeling calm and relaxed.

A lone woman, barely twenty-two, sat by one corner of the tower upon several silk cushions, eyes closed as she played her reed flute. Her brown hair hung down to her shoulder blades, and her petit frame was covered with a pure white robe. Her skin was frightfully pale, the colour of alabaster, giving her an alien quality to her appearance. She played for several minutes more, ignoring Harry entirely, the music soft and peaceful, compelling him to forget all troubles. Harry sat down patiently, fidgeting with nervousness.

Finally, the girl finished, setting her flute down. "Music doth soothes the savage beast, as they say," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Opening her eyes, Harry saw that they were yellow, glowing with unnatural light. "It seems that you have two beasts within you, Harry Potter. One potentially useful, the other harmful. Daelin was sent here to help you tame the first, to use its powers to assist others. I am here to help you remove the second. Do you know of what I speak?"

Harry thought for a moment, unnerved by her appearance. The first was the energies of Gryffindor. The second... "Voldemort. Yes, I understand you."

The girl smiled, her vivid yellow eyes focusing on Harry. "That is good. I am Avalon," she said, bowing before him. "And, no, I'm not sick. I paid a price for my abilities, Harry Potter, and this was the result." She gestured to her body, the cobalt skin, the yellow eyes.

Harry choked for a moment. "How did- I'm sorry if I offended you." _She must have been looking through my mind_.

"Just your surface thoughts," Avalon replied, causing Harry to gasp again. "They're the easiest to pick up."

"Ms. Avalon-"

"Just call me Avalon. I'll just call you Harry," she interjected, moving beside him. "Don't be nervous. You've worried about failing at this, correct?"

Faced with her intense gaze, Harry nodded in agreement. Avalon chuckled. "Don't be. Master Seros has taught me well. And I won't be invading your privacy either, unlike some teachers."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Avalon. Stormfury told me you were a Spirit Walker, whatever that is."

"You know of the Shadow Hunters, how they wield the powers of Elementalism. As a Spirit Walker, I have chosen a different path, one that examines the fates and destinies of mortals. A path that expands the boundaries of human mental abilities. The path of the Spirit Walker is paved with dreams and visions instead of fire and steel."

Harry looked at Avalon with greater respect. _So, their society is almost like a caste system of some kind._ "How many more groups of you guys are there?" he asked.

"Only a few, and they use Elementalism, like the Shadow Hunters. But no more of this. Come, we'd best get started."

The two sat down by the basin of water, Harry crossing his legs and assuming the lotus position. Avalon smiled in relief. "I see that Daelin has taught you how to mediate, good. Tell me, when you studied under Professor Snape, what did he tell you to do?"

"He just told me to empty my mind, then he cast a spell that probed it. That's it."

Avalon frowned. "And, afterwards, how did you feel?"

"Weak. I felt even worse afterwards. Weaker, instead of more powerful."

The Spirit Walker sighed in frustration. "Well, we certainly have a lot of work to do. When you prepare yourself for a mental attack successfully, you should feel empty, in a state of peacefulness. You should be able to defend yourself for a time against any invasive mental probes, and shore up your defences should the attack continue."

"Um, Avalon? I was wondering. My previous Occlumency tutor once said that the mind was made of many layers, so how can you see my thoughts?" Harry asked, mentally cursing himself for offending her.

"Not at all, Harry. Your last Occlumency teacher, while obviously not very skilled in the art, was right on that point. To a degree. The human mind is layered, true, but some layers are easier to access than others, surface thoughts mostly. The thoughts that are at the forefront of your mind."

As Harry knelt down beside the basin, Avalon closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. A cup of water silently floated off of the floor and hovered over the basin, slowly tipping on an angle, until a single drop of water spilled out and landed inside. Every few seconds, another drop of water dripped out, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Just concentrate on something constant as you meditate," Avalon said, her voice as soothing as the ocean breeze. "The sound of the water, your breathing, a mantra perhaps. Focus on that, and you will begin to force all other thoughts from your mind. Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?"

Harry was shocked by the forwardness of her question. "Yes. What does Cho have to do with anything?"

"You probably shouldn't try this around her, too easily distracted," Avalon answered, smiling slightly. "Now, let's give this a try. Concentrate on the sound of the water falling. Forget everything else. Just meditate."

Harry did so, listening to the occasional drop of water that fell into the basin, his eyes closed. The entirety of his mind became focused on the lightly falling drops. His breathing slowed, and all other thoughts were evacuated from his head.

Suddenly, he felt another presence, a stifling, enshrouding presence that snaked around him and wrapped around his mind like a heavy blanket. Harry gasped in shock, his concentration broken, his mental defences pierced in an instant, his entire life stripped bare for Avalon to see.

"Concentrate," Avalon said soothingly. "I won't look at your memories, just concentrate. Try it again."

Harry did, and was able to keep his mental shields up for a moment longer before Avalon brought them down, the presence of her mind braking through.

"Again, again," she whispered gently. "With practice, your endurance will increase, and you'll be able to resist for longer. Try again."

For the next two hours, Harry continued to practice his Occlumency techniques, Avalon testing him. While Snape had charged into Harry's mind with all the finesse of a crash of rhinos, Avalon was much more subtle, quietly slipping into it, giving little warning of her attacks. Thankfully for Harry, not once did she uproot his memories or taunt him the way Snape did. Instead, she helped him to achieve better results, and used subtle ploys to weaken his defences and keep him off guard.

Finally, Harry relented, his mind aching from the telepathic barrage. "I'm not feeling much improvement," he declared, letting his tense muscles slump.

"You will, Harry, you will. Before you go to bed each night, practice what I've taught you. Meet me here tomorrow night, alright?" she asked, getting him to his feet.

"Thank you, Avalon. The visions plagued me all last year, and I don't want anyone else to suffer because of them," Harry said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Avalon?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know how this is going to end?" Harry asked, his eyes full of worry "Stormfury said you found the Champions prophecy, and that you could see into the future skilfully. Tell me, what happens in the final battle? Will I beat Voldemort?"

Avalon was silent for a moment before responding, "Many events, Harry Potter, are hidden from the sight of mortals, unable to be seen even by the most powerful of seers. Your duel with Voldemort is one such event. It is a doom cloaked in shadow, a fate that not even the brightest light can illuminate, until it comes to pass. I cannot tell you, and even if I could, I would not."

Harry was aghast at her statement, his anger growing. "Even if it meant saving lives, Avalon? Even if it meant ending this war sooner? I am _constantly_ surrounded by secrets, Spirit Walker! Tell me what you know!"

Avalon whirled on him, eyes blazing with unnatural light. "You will face him. That is all I know," she retorted, her voice a deadly quiet. "Do not presume that I know everything that will happen, Harry Potter. Here is what I do know. Sometimes, it is up to mortals to write their own destinies."

Her voice faltered, and she turned back to sit down. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry stood dumbfounded for a moment, then left the tower, frustrated by Avalon's apparent lack of cooperation and his inability to master Occlumency. Returning to his comfortable dorm, he begin to meditate, ignoring the questioning glances of his friends. _Voldemort is not going to beat me!_ became his mantra, muttering it to himself as night fell.

* * *

The next morning, Harry awoke feeling refreshed and happy, his dreams free from nightmares. _What Avalon taught me really must work!_ Quickly getting dressed, Harry walked down to the Great Hall with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. Hermione was already there, engrossed in her Transfiguration textbook, her food untouched. "Morning, 'Mione," Harry greeted, taking a seat beside her. 

"Morning, Harry," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes from the pages. "How was your sleep? Any visions?"

Harry chuckled. "Nope, not a single one."

Hermione looked at him strangely. "You seem cheerful today. What happened? Any late-night snogging with Cho?"

"Nope," Harry responded, "but that would have been good too. I'm continuing Occlumency training."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, Harry, that's great!" she said, giving him a tight hug. Releasing him, she asked, "Is Professor Snape giving you any trouble?"

Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Nope. It's a friend of Professor Stormfury, a Spirit Walker, she's called. Apparently, they're seers of some kind. She starting teaching me last night, and it was a lot easier than I expected. It was definitely easier than when I was doing it with Snape."

"That's great!" Hermione said. "I always thought that Snape was doing something wrong. If there's anything I can do to help, just ask, okay?"

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Hello, everyone," Ron said, pulling up beside them, and wasting no time in starting breakfast, tearing through a waffle like a shark through a fat swimmer. "Guess what happened?" he asked, crumbs of food flying from his mouth.

Hermione sighed. "Ron?"

"Yes, 'Mione?"

"You're never going to get a girlfriend with those manners."

The entire Gryffindor table laughed uproariously, and Ron's ears burned red with embarrassment. "Thanks, mother," he replied sarcastically, continuing to eat.

"Mother? _Mother?_" Hermione shrieked, her voice indignant. "Are you saying I'm old, Ronald Weasley?"

Before Ron and Hermione could get into a full-fledged argument, Neville cut in, asking, "Hey, Harry, do you think you could teach us how to duel the way you did yesterday?"

Harry smiled. Good old Neville. "Maybe. I have a lot of stuff going on right now. I'm sure that Stormfury will be showing you guys a bit of sword-play before the end of the year."

"Really, Harry," Dean said, "that was amazing! It was like in some of the movies I have at my house. And Cho was great too. Did she study with you, or something?"

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he looked over to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho sat alone, shunned by her friends and House-mates. If she was concerned or bothered by this, she showed no sign, merely eating her breakfast by herself.

"Harry?" came Dean's voice, but he paid no attention. Instead, he went over to the Ravenclaw table, catching Cho's eye.

"Hello, Harry," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Harry replied, ignoring the questioning glances of the Ravenclaws. "I was just wondering if you'd like to sit with me, keep each other company, you know."

Cho blushed. "Sure! I've always wondered what the Gryffindor table was like. They won't mind, will they?"

Harry shook his head. "No, you'll be fine."

Returning back to the Gryffindor table, Cho was quickly accepted by Harry's friends, who were eager to ask her about what happened during the summer, and how she and Harry were doing. Even Ron forgot his disagreement with Hermione to welcome her. Cho blushed at the attention, but stayed silent about her and Harry, merely telling them that they got together after training one night, leaving out anything involving the prophecies. She burst out giggling when Parvati asked her, "Is he a good kisser?"

"Shall we give you a demonstration?" Cho replied, much to the amusement of all.

"I'm willing!" Harry declared, prompting more laughter from the Gryffindors. For the next few minutes, they chatted amongst themselves, discussing their classes, their chances for the upcoming Quidditch season. Ron stood up, as if giving an important speech at a banquet. "As I was saying, before 'Mione interrupted me," he said, glaring at her for a moment, "I have some important news."

"What's up, Ron?" Neville asked.

Ron dropped the bomb. "McGonagall has made me Quidditch Captain."

Hermione shrieked in excitement. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry! Congratulations!"

"Way to go, Ron!" Harry said. "When did you find out?"

"Last night," replied Ron, "right after the feast. She told me that since neither you or Katie were willing to take the position, I was the only one left. You're not jealous, are you mate?"

Harry shook his head. "No, far from it. I couldn't handle the responsibility. Besides, you know all about history and tactics, Ron. I just find the Snitch."

Cho gave him a playful shove. "That's the most important part, Harry!" she declared, shaking her finger at him in mock anger. "Anyway, congratulations, Ron! If we have to lose again this year, thankfully it'll be to you, not Malfoy. But we sure don't plan to!"

Ron blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, Cho. Are you sure you don't want to give up now, save us the trouble of trouncing you later?" he asked.

Cho laughed at his good nature. "Trust me, Weasley, I've been practicing with one of the best Seekers in the country this summer. I think I have a shot at beating him," she declared, smiling at Harry.

"In your dreams, Cho!" Harry shouted.

"Most of them, yes," Cho replied. "The other ones involving you are a bit private, I won't be going into them here."

Laughter erupted from the Gryffindors at her joke, as Harry turned towards Cho, his face red with embarrassment. "Ms. Chang, I'm shocked!" he declared jokingly.

"What is this all about?" The voice cut through the merriment like a knife, and an uncomfortable silence hovered over the table. Turning around, Harry saw Ginny standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest, her face as red as her hair. She eyed Cho with obvious distrust. "What's _she_ doing here?"

"We were just discussing Quidditch, Gin," Harry replied. "What's wrong?"

Quickly, Ginny shook her head and sat down. "Nothing," she answered, helping herself to breakfast, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry turned back to Ron. "Anyway, when's the tryouts?"

"This Sunday. Our game against Slytherin is two weeks after." Ron sighed in discontentment. "Hopefully, we can rake up some good players before then. Kirke and Slope said they don't want to play Quidditch anymore, so we're down our two Beaters. Ginny says she'll play Chaser, so there's just one Chaser spot left open. I don't really know how we're going to get the team together, mate."

"Don't worry, Ron, I'm sure you'll do fine," Cho assured him. "I can help you with tactics, if you like. Hey, since you're a Cannons fan, you might need a bit."

"The Tornados fan is willing to help out the Cannons fan?" Dean asked. "Not something you see everyday."

Ron ignored him. "Your Captain wouldn't mind?" he asked Cho.

Cho smiled. "No, I'm fine with it."

Harry and Ron did a quick double-take at the statement. Cho giggled, seeing surprise written all over their faces. "What, you think that a woman can't Captain a Quidditch team?" she asked mockingly.

Harry closed his mouth, remembering Angelina Johnson. "No, ma'am!"

* * *

The muggy summer air hung heavily over the compound, uncomfortable both for the Auror guards and the occupants of the house. Night had fallen over this place and the scent of flowers wafted up from the gardens, carefully tended and maintained by gangs of house-elves. But there was another stench in the air. Death. 

For death had come to claim this place.

Dressed in her usual leather outfit, Isolde von Albrecht surveyed the compound, her unnatural senses picking up every detail. Beside her, Asmodeus signalled the strike team of Nagarythe assassins into position, readying a pair of long knives from his belt. Isolde turned to the First Death Eater, flicking her brown tresses. "How much longer do we have to wait?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Not much longer, my Lady," Asmodeus replied, looking through the seeing stone and pointing towards the guardhouse. With her incredibly sharp night-vision, Isolde saw the two guards within go down, barbed crossbow bolts piercing their throats and hearts. Asmodeus signalled the rest of the Nagarythe to move forward. Silently, the assassins ran forward, drawing knives and throwing stars, heading for the main building, the residence of their target. Clad in black robes and masks, the Nagarythe were brutal killers, skilled in hand-to-hand combat and stealth techniques, armed with a variety of weapons. Utterly devoted to the cause, they were Voldemort's elite unit, the harbingers of his endless wrath.

"What exactly is so important about this place?" Isolde asked, observing Asmodeus direct the attack. "It's just the home of a minor Ministry official."

"The artefacts within the house is more important than the people, my Lady," Asmodeus answered. "This minor Ministry official possesses two valuable talismans, weapons really, that will aid our cause greatly."

Isolde frowned. Ever since she had joined the Dark Lord, she had heard nothing but the importance of all these enchanted items that Voldemort wanted to possess. The Dark Lord was still obsessed with finding these Chaos Stones and forced his followers to work night and day on the digging, always searching for them. Now, he had sent the Nagarythe, along with herself and Asmodeus to find two more items. _Fools. Once this war is over, I won't be needing to work with them anymore._

The vampire Lady was almost a thousand years old, and in that time, she had survived many threats to her and her power. At the age of twenty-one, she and her family were bitten by the vampires, a blessing in disguise as it was. Isolde, obsessed with physical perfection, dreaded becoming old and ugly like her mother. Infected by the vampire curse, she remained as beautiful and as young as when she was bitten. Her family, driven by the need to consume the blood of humans, carved out a kingdom for themselves within the Albanian foothills, feasting on the peasantry and expanding the ranks of the vampires. Soon, an entire army of them swore fealty to the Blood Ruby, an army that they sent across much of Eastern Europe, expanding the Kingdom of the Night. This army of vampires even fought small skirmishes with the Byzantine Empire, who had been weakened by their constant battles with the Turks.

All that changed when Rowena Ravenclaw arrived in the region. Wielding strange magicks and aided by a group of adventurers and the rebellious peasantry, the noble-born Founder stormed the castle of the von Albrechts and slew Isolde's family and much of their army, ending the Kingdom of the Night and forcing Isolde to flee for her life.

For the centuries after, Isolde lived in fear, hunting humans for substance, all the while being hunted herself, mostly by the Ministry of Magic or the Church in Rome. She used her seductive wiles to her advantage, luring her victims into fatal traps. She found it easy, almost enjoyable, to prey upon and exploit the lusts and emotions of humans. She dreamed of one day enslaving all vampires and rebuilding the Kingdom of the Night. The Blood Ruby would rise again, and humanity would tremble at her coming.

With her alliance with Voldemort, that day was approaching soon. Isolde smiled to herself. _Once the Kingdom of the Night has been reborn, I'll have no need of the Dark Lord. The power of men is temporary. The power of the vampire is eternal. I'll overthrow him, and that will be the end of it._

She turned to Asmodeus, moving close enough to feel his heartbeat. She kissed him, sucking gently on his lips. "Am I not beautiful, Asmodeus?" she whispered, nuzzling his neck, feeling the pulse of his jugular vein beneath her lips, the sweet smell of blood below his skin.

In an instant, Asmodeus' knives were over her heart. "Hoping to turn me into one of you, my Lady?" the First Death Eater asked. Even though he had her in a deadly position, his voice was still as calm and polite as ever.

Isolde giggled, and moved forward. "Such beauty, Asmodeus! I'll make sure it stays like that forever..."

"Enough." The tone of Asmodeus' voice alone was enough to make her back down. "My Lady, we have work to do. Shall we?"

Entering the compound, the Nagarythe struck swiftly, cutting into the Aurors with lethal speed. The Aurors fought back, curses blazing, taking out several assassins, but in close combat, the Nagarythe held the advantage, tearing their opponents apart. One Auror charged forward, eager to avenge the deaths of his comrades. Instantly, an assassin drove a strange curved blade into his heart. As the weapon pierced the unfortunate Auror's flesh, acid wept from pores dotted along the blade. The Auror screamed in agony as the acid ate through his chest cavity, melting a hole right through him.

Another Auror ran for the house, in an attempt to raise the alarm. Several shuriken, throwing stars, buried into his back, sending him to the ground.

Asmodeus waded through the Aurors, cutting left and right with his long knives. An Auror fell, face sliced open. Another dropped to the ground, decapitated. The First Death Eater thrust a blade into an opponent's gut, before spinning around and hurling his second knife, catching yet another Auror in the throat, cutting off the scream that issued from his mouth. Faced with the furious Nagarythe assault, the Aurors broke and ran, pursued by the victorious servants of Voldemort.

Screams could be heard from the house, as the second group of assassins succeeded in capturing the sleeping occupants. Asmodeus sheathed his knives. "Bring the prisoners out here! The rest of you, start searching for the talismans!"

Isolde walked over to him. "That was well done," she said, observing the bloodshed around them, licking her lips. Her own powers were substantial, but they were not needed to destroy the Auror guards. "Is the Ministry so weak it cannot defend its own workers?"

"We shall see," came Asmodeus' response.

Their hands bond in front of them, the prisoners were dragged in front of Asmodeus, a balding Ministry worker, his wife, and their three children, two boys and a girl, all about seventeen years old. Inside the house, assassins searched every nook and cranny for their objective, tearing the house apart. The father grovelled before Asmodeus, begging and pleading. "Please, sir," he wept, his breath coming out in terrified gasps, "spare us, sir. I am just a simple worker in the Ministry of Magic. My name is Charlie Borkon. We have no money or information to give you."

"Spare me your cringing, worm," Asmodeus spat, kicking the man over. "You have two possessions that my master is interested in. Somewhere in your dung-heap of a house are the _Liber Mortis_ and the Null Stone. You retrieved them from an excavation in Mongolia, as part of the Ministry's plan to recover ancient artefacts. Tell where they are, and I promise to be swift when I kill you."

Borkon's eyes darted from side to side, and sweat ran down his forehead. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice weak with fear.

"I see," Asmodeus replied, drawing a knife. "Perhaps this will refresh _your memory!_" He plunged the knife deep into Ms. Borkon's chest, slicing open her heart. The children screamed as she collapsed, blood pouring forth. Behind them, Isolde licked her lips in anticipation.

"Remember now?" Asmodeus asked, moving behind one of the sons.

"I don't know!" Borkon screamed, tears flowing down his face.

Asmodeus slit the first boy's throat, then threw him down onto the ground, blood mingling with the earth. He arrived behind the second son. "Tell me where they are."

Borkon looked up at Asmodeus with revulsion. "They're too powerful! You don't know what you'll unleash!"

With a bellow of rage, Asmodeus seized the second boy's head and snapped his neck like a twig, then threw the body with the others. By this point, both Borkon and his daughter were weeping freely, wailing and screaming curses at the First Death Eater. Isolde clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to resist the urge to feed. Asmodeus leaned down beside the girl, tears staining her thin nightgown. In an almost peaceful gesture, he tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Tell me, girl, what is your name?" he asked softly.

"Cindy," the girl responded weakly, even as fresh tears welled up.

Asmodeus chuckled. "Well, Cindy, there's no need to cry now. Cry later, when I begin to strip the flesh from your bones if your father doesn't co-operate."

"Wait!" Borkon shrieked, utterly terrified. "Please, you win, just don't hurt my daughter! The items are in the basement, in the green chest. Please, don't hurt her!"

Asmodeus dispatched several assassins to the basement, and surely enough, they found it, a wooden chest, covered in green dragonhide leather and sealed with a series of locks. "How do you open it?" Asmodeus asked.

Borkon relented for a moment, but seeing a knife at his daughter's throat, he gave in. "The password is treasure."

Speaking the password, the latches snapped open, and Asmodeus' breath caught in his throat, seeing the talismans they were sent to retrieve, wrapped in layers of silk.

The first was a large, ancient book, its covers black, its pages made from human skin. On the cover and all over the pages, a twisted and blasphemous script had been written in human blood, a language that few knew existed, and even fewer could translate. For this was the _Liber Mortis_, the Book of Death, written by the Lichemaster Nehek almost a thousand years ago.

The second was a plain black gemstone, as dark as the deepest abyss. Asmodeus touched it for a moment, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of weakness more powerful than anything he had ever felt in his life. The Null Stone sat there, its very presence making the assembled wizards uneasy.

Asmodeus smiled. "These are the ones. You two," he ordered, pointing to two of the Nagarythe, "take them back to Lord Voldemort. The rest of you, torch this place. Leave nothing."

The Nagarythe silently went to do his bidding, and he turned back to Borkon, a wicked grin on his face. "Thank you for your aid, Mr. Borkon. See, it wasn't so painful, was it?"

The ageing Ministry worker looked at Asmodeus with burning hatred. "You son of a bitch. You killed my family, and I'll kill you, and-" Borkon's voice was cut off as Asmodeus flung a knife straight into his heart, faster than the eye could see.

Asmodeus walked up towards the mortally wounded Borkon and leered in his face. "This is what happens when you resist the Dark Lord. You die," he oozed, spitting him, and removing his knife.

With a tortured howl, Isolde broke down, leaping over to Borkon's corpse and devouring the blood that gushed from the gaping wound. Moaning in ecstasy, she buried her face in the wound, working her way deeper into his body, squealing in pleasure. Asmodeus looked on, his expression stony, before ordering an assassin, "Gag the girl, and bring her to my chambers. Spoils of war, after all."

The girl, Cindy, screamed in terror, as one of the Nagarythe gagged her and placed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Already, the rest of the strike team were moving to the Apparition point. Asmodeus took one final look around, before moving to join them.

* * *

Blaise finished updating her files, secreting them within their hiding place once again. Slytherin House was abuzz with activity, as many of the Slytherins tried to create plans of their own to kidnap Chang, eager to win Malfoy's favour. Blaise shook her head in disgust. _We've lost our way. Back in the days of the Founders, Slytherin was a proud, powerful, House. We didn't toady to the nearest bully._ Fortunately, Malfoy had yet to decide on a final plan, and until he did, the Slytherins had been forbidden to attempt anything. This gave her some time. Time to gather support. Time to cause confusion. Time to show them what a true Slytherin was capable of! 

She had originally planned to contact Potter and Chang anonymously and warn them of the threat, but she dismissed the idea. It was unlikely that they would take the threat seriously, and even if they know it was her, they wouldn't trust a Slytherin. If they did take it seriously, no doubt they'd blunder around the school in typical Gryffindor fashion and confront Malfoy. If he managed to escape unscathed, Draco would realize that he had been betrayed, and come after her, a scenario she wanted to avoid. Besides, she didn't know the time, place, or method on their attempt anyway.

In the bed beside her, Blaise heard Pansy moan in her sleep. Malfoy's girlfriend was at the head of their plans against Potter, and was often seen directing strategy with Malfoy. Pansy was the driving force behind this plan, so if Blaise were to stop it, Pansy would have to be stopped.

Drawing her wand, Blaise made her way over to Pansy's bed, listening to the twisted Slytherin thrash and moan in her sleep, the silk sheets hissing together. Blaise pulled back the curtains, whispering _"Stupefy!"_, knocking Pansy out cold.

Blaise stared at Pansy with revulsion, raising her wand. _Sorry, Pansy, but you'll bring this House to ruin. I won't let that happen._

"_Obvilate Targous!"_ she whispered, casting a modified Memory Charm on Pansy. Concentrating, she removed the specific memories from her mind of the plot against Potter, especially her part in it. Sweat ran down her forehead, Blaise praying she wouldn't be caught. Finally, she finished erasing Pansy's mind of the plot. Satisfied with her charm-work, Blaise gathered an object from her clothes drawer, silently exiting the dormitory. _Pansy won't be able to encourage your moronic plans, Draco darling. Don't make me take it to the next level_. Like a thief in the dark, she crept throughout the dungeons, causing havoc and mayhem, quietly chuckling to herself. By the time she finished, Slytherin House would be in disarray when the students awoke...

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Harry, every waking moment of his time spent on either school, Quidditch, Occlumency practice, or with Cho. She too had started to feel the pressures of classes, and was often seen in the library, feverishly studying to get a head start on her N.E.W.T's. While the time they spend together was short, Harry was grateful for being with Cho, and they used their time to the fullest extent. 

Finally, three weeks into the school year, it was time for the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The tryouts of the Gryffindor team had been good, and Ron was constantly drilling Harry and the others, directing them into a series of new manoeuvres to use against Slytherin. The Gryffindor team, with new members, was relatively inexperienced compared to the brutal veterans of Slytherin House, but they had skill, and frenzied determination.

An air of tension had fallen over the school in the days before the match, both sides driven to the defeat of the other. The Gryffindors, like the rest of the school, had not forgotten the humiliation they had suffered at the hands of Slytherin House during Umbridge's reign of terror, and were eager to take their arch-rivals down a peg or two. On the other side, the Slytherins, driven by their unrelenting hatred of Gryffindor House, steeled themselves for the aerial clash to come, determined to show the power of their House, and silence the growing uproar of dissent against them.

Already, several fights had broken out between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, both sides edgy at each other's presence. Fortunately, the majority of the time, the Gryffindors held the upper hand, the skills they learned in the D.A. going to good use. Ron asked that Harry be escorted to his classes should he be ambushed by Malfoy's thugs, and the Gryffindors took Ron's request to heart.

The day came, and the morning breeze found Harry in the Gryffindor locker room, clutching his Firebolt tightly against his chest, as if expecting the Slytherins to steal it anyway. Beside him, Ron stood, a golden _C_ sewn to the front of his Quidditch robes, going over the final details of their game plan in his mind. He was sweating with anxiety, his hands shaking. "Don't worry, Ron," Harry said, trying to calm his friend down, moving to the side so the others couldn't hear them. "We'll be fine. We beat Slytherin before, and we can do it again. You're a great Captain, and we're well trained because of it."

Ron shook his head. "Not well trained enough, mate. If only we had more time. Some of these guys haven't even played a real game of Quidditch, never mind one against Slytherin."

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Well, Ron, at least there's one thing going for us."

"What's that, mate?" Ron asked.

"They're not singing that damn song this time."

Ron laughed heartily, remembering the 'Weasley is our King' song from last year. After a moment, Harry joined in. The two veteran Quidditch players turned to face the rest of the team. Harry's heart swelled in pride as he saw them, dressed in Quidditch robes, clutching brooms, chatting amongst themselves jovially.

Katie and Ginny formed the base of the Chaser line, joined by a fourth-year named Tiffany Maurer, affectionately dubbed, "The Longshot." Maurer had played Quidditch extensively before coming to Hogwarts, and was incredibly accurate with the Quaffle, capable of deflecting a Bludger in mid-flight with a quick toss.

With the Weasley twins gone, it fell to the Creevy brothers to fill in the gap as the Beaters. Colin and his younger brother Dennis were newcomers to the game, but showed great skill compared to their relative inexperience. Every practice, they had gotten better and better, and now, they stood beside their hero Harry, ready to prove themselves in an actual game.

"All right, listen up!" Ron barked, and the team fell silent. "Now, I know we're not the most experienced team in Hogwarts, but that's not important. What's important is we stick to the plan, and remember what we've practiced. Malfoy," he said, pointing out into the sunlight, "is out there, so let's show that stuck-up pure-blood git what a _real_ Quidditch team looks like!"

Colin hefted his Beater club onto his shoulder. "Payback time."

"Damn right, Colin. That git doesn't deserved to be a Seeker, none of his team deserve to step out on the pitch with real players." Ron's gaze focused on each and every one for a moment. "Let's bring them down! For Gryffindor House!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" came their war-cry, and the team charged out onto the pitch, taking their positions across the sea of grass. The Slytherins were already in place, with Malfoy at the lead, wearing the Captain's patch. All around them, the students of the four Houses of Hogwarts stood in the stands, waving flags and cheering their respective teams on. Harry saw that most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wore red scarves loosely around their necks, showing their support for the Gryffindor team.

The greatest sights in the stands were three large banners, bearing the heraldry of their houses. The silken standard of Gryffindor, the golden lion on the field of red, was born aloft by Neville Longbottom, waving it enthusiastically. Luna Lovegood held the banner of Ravenclaw, the bronze raven on the field of blue, its cloth tassels flittering in the gentle breeze that rolled off the lake. The gonfalon of Hufflepuff flew high, the black badger on the field of yellow, its banner-pole in the hands of Hannah Abbot, smiling with pride.

Harry exhaled his captured breath, hearing the sound of the crowds booming from the stadium. This was why he did it. The satisfaction of the crowds supporting him, the joy of open flight, the adrenaline rushing as the two Seekers raced for the Golden Snitch. Some men found joy in playing music, tilling the soil and planting crops fulfilled others, others still found pleasure in painting and creating masterpieces of art, but this was what made Harry's heart race and his soul sing. _This, and Cho..._he thought, searching for her raven-black hair in the crowds.

"Now, I want a nice clean game!" Madam Hooch snapped, looking at Ron and Malfoy. "Captains, shake hands."

They did, Malfoy glowering at Ron, his eyes cold and vicious, while Ron squeezed Malfoy's hand extra hard, his own gaze no less menacing.

"Teams, mount your brooms!" Hooch shouted, bringing the whistle to her mouth.

Malfoy sneered at Harry. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry grinned ferally. "I think you know the answer already, Malfoy."

Hooch blew her whistle, the balls were released and the two teams sprang into action, the memories of past grudges running through their minds. Up in the announcer's booth, Dean Thomas sat beside Professor McGonagall, calling the play-by-play.

"Alright, it's Ginny Weasley first with the Quaffle, very pretty girl there, Ginny, anyway, Weasley with the Quaffle, scooting past Warren, up to Slytherin Keeper Grant, shoots- no wait, passes to Bell! Bell shoots! SCORE! TEN-ZERO GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands, while the Slytherins booed. Meanwhile, Harry sat at a high altitude, hunting for the Snitch, looking for the tell-tale flash of gold that would led him to it.

"Slytherin heading up towards the Gryffindor end, Warren at the lead, pass to Mon- intercepted by Tiffany Maurer of Gryffindor! Maurer, racing back to the Slytherin goal! Come on, Tiffy! FASTER!"

Maurer held the Quaffle in the crook of her arm, and nearing the half-way point, threw it with all her strength. The Longshot earned her title with that throw, the Quaffle sailing throw the left goalpost before the Slytherin Keeper could react. By this point, Dean had regained control of the microphone from Professor McGonagall.

"Lighten up, Professor! Anyway, Slytherin heading back up, Warren on the offensive again, BLOCK IT, RON! YES! WEASLEY SAVE!"

Malfoy hovered below and behind Harry, maintaining a set distance between the two of them. Whenever Harry went to the right, Malfoy went right as well, shadowing his every movement. From what Harry could gather, Malfoy was planning on letting Harry find the Snitch for him, then hope to close the distance before he could. Harry grinned. _Find you own Snitch, Malfoy._ It was insane to think that Malfoy thought his Nimbus could best Harry's Firebolt. _You want to play it that way, Malfoy? All right, then just follow me._

With lightning speed, Harry flew to the left, heading towards the stands. Malfoy followed, thinking that Harry had found the Snitch. Before Harry hit the stands, he jerked right again, feinting the blond Slytherin. Malfoy barely managed to avoid a collision, his face red with anger. "Stand still, Potter, damn you!"

Harry feinted again and again, and each time, Malfoy followed without hesitation. Whether soaring high above the stands, or down low to the ground, Malfoy followed. Harry even buzzed a formation of Slytherin Chasers, and Malfoy trailed him, causing the Slytherins to drop the Quaffle, allowing Ginny to score.

While Harry continued his game of follow-the-leader with Malfoy, the Gryffindors were quickly dominating the skies. Ginny, Katie, and Tiffany engaged in amazing displays of teamwork and co-ordination, passing the Quaffle back and forth to one another as they flew towards the Slytherin goals, disorienting the Slytherin Keeper and attacking from unguarded angles. The Creevy brothers flanked them, preventing the Bludgers from disrupting their formation, and sending them at the Slytherin Chasers should they intercept the Quaffle. Ron was a wall between the Slytherins and the Gryffindor goals, blocking most of their shots.

To make matters worse for the Slytherins, Harry used himself as a human Bludger, darting through the Slytherin formations, disrupting their offence, piercing through their defence like an arrow, all while leading Malfoy on a wild goose chase.

In desperation, the Slytherins fell back on a time-honoured tactic. Cheating. Katie had the wind knocked out of her by a Beater's club. A Slytherin Chaser grabbed Ginny by the hair, causing her to drop the Quaffle in shock. Crabbe shoved Dennis off his broom with a disdainful flick, sending him tumbling to the ground. Fortunately, the third-year wasn't flying very fast or high, otherwise the consequences would have been painful. Colin retaliated by smashing Crabbe on the back of the head with his club, pole-axing him.

Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor penalty throws for these offences, and Ginny struck hard, scoring two out of three times. For Colin's offence, one of the Slytherin Chasers got a throw against Ron, who easily saved. Although they battered and bruised the Gryffindors through cheating, the Slytherins fell back even farther, points-wise, each time they did.

Madam Hooch allowed both teams a time-out to revive the fallen Beaters, and the Gryffindors landed on the pitch, where Madam Pomfrey was looking over Dennis. The young Gryffindor angrily pushed her aside and grabbed his broom.

"Mr. Creevy, sit down," Pomfrey barked, applying a compress to his head. "You're in no condition to play right now!"

Dennis shook her off. "It's okay, I'm alright! In my first year, I fell into the lake on the way to Hogwarts. No bully from Slytherin is going to get me down."

"You sure, Dennis?" Ginny asked. "Maybe she's right, you should rest, keep you from getting hurt more."

Dennis looked at Ginny with fire in his eyes. "I'm not going to abandon the team! Not now! Not against Slytherin!"

Before an argument could erupt, Ron stepped in. "Alright, enough. I'm the Captain here, I'll decide. Dennis," he asked, raising three fingers, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Dennis replied.

Ron smiled. "He's good to go!" The team re-mounted onto their brooms, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's objections. The crowd of Gryffindor supporters cheered and hollered, seeing Dennis get back on his broom, slightly shaky.

The game continued, and Gryffindor extended their lead, out-flying and out-playing the Slytherins at every turn. Harry flew slowly over the pitch, searching for the Snitch once more.

Harry felt the wind being knocked out of him as Malfoy rammed into him, sideswiping his with his broom. Harry held on, struggling to breathe, sucking in great gasps of air. "How do you like it, Potter?" Malfoy shouted, seeing Harry's distress.

Harry lay down flat on his broom, his legs wrapped tightly around to keep him from falling, staring down at the Pitch below. The glimmer of gold caught his eye. The Snitch, below him at ground level! He grinned to himself. Then dropped.

The spectators gasped in horror and shock as Harry went into a tailspin, he and his broom freefalling out of control. "Come on, Harry, you can do it," he whispered to himself, watching the ground rush up towards him, faster and faster, the tiny glint of gold hovering seductively before him.

Malfoy screamed, "NO!" as he realized what Harry was doing. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STEAL THIS FROM ME!" He went into a tailspin as well, mimicking Harry's move into an effort to reach the Snitch first.

Just as Harry was about to hit, he pulled up on his broom, stabilizing himself and slowing his momentum. His outstretched hand grabbed the Snitch, the walnut-sized ball of gold struggling to escape. "YES!"

The stadium erupted into shouts of joy, and Harry felt six red cloaked forms descend on him. Ron was crying in happiness. "You did it, mate! Bloody well done!" The Gryffindor Chasers enveloped him a massive hug, shrieking with jubilation. Colin and Dennis whooped, dancing around. "I told you he could do it, Colin," Dennis said, "I knew it!"

"280 to 30, for Gryffindor!" Madam Hooch said, blowing her whistle.

Ron cackled in glee. "That'll teach Malfoy to pick on us. Bloody hell, mate, where you trying to kill yourself?"

Ginny threw him a disapproving look. "Ron! Anyway," she whispered, "well done, Harry."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry replied. "You were great too. You guys just flew circles around them!"

The stands emptied, as the Gryffindors made their way to the Pitch, eager to congratulate the team on its victory. No few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined them, shaking hands and cheering for the noble Gryffindors. The Slytherins slunk away, deflated by their loss, Malfoy leading the rear.

"Well now, Mr. Potter, it seems you've been holding out on me," Cho said, appearing by his side. Besides her usual Ravenclaw uniform, she wore a light Gryffindor scarf around her neck, bringing out the colour of her hair even more. She kissed him softly, the touch of her soft, full lips sending sparks through him. "Congratulations, my love."

Harry smiled, returning the kiss. "Thanks, Cho. That should keep Malfoy shut up for a while, huh?"

Cho giggled softly. "Probably. But, Harry, that was amazing!" she said, her voice filled with awe. "Have you ever thought about going professional?"

"Maybe," Harry replied. "When I was younger, yes, but now Voldemort's back. Besides," he said, grabbing Cho by the scarf and gently pulling her close, until he felt her breasts pressing against him. "I've found my Golden Snitch right here." They kissed, a full, passionate kiss, lost in the moment, ignoring the hubbub around them, the tenderness of the kiss enveloping them. After a minute, they broke apart only for need of air, their faces rosy with delight.

"So," Harry said, tracing her cheek with his hand, "we'll probably be having a party in Gryffindor Tower tonight. Want to come?"

Cho's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure they'll allow it?"

"Who cares?" Harry declared, holding her close. "We kicked Malfoy's arse today. That's reason enough to celebrate with a beautiful woman."

Cho blushed at the compliment. "Why, thank you, Harry! Sure. I'll meet you over by the entrance to the old D.A. room, I'm not exactly sure where Gryffindor Tower is. Now, join your team-mates, my love. It seems you're getting a lift home!"

Before Harry could inquire what she was talking about, strong hands grabbed him and lifted him overhead, the Gryffindors bearing their team on their shoulders, chanting cries of victory, the banner of Gryffindor House at their head.

* * *

That night, the Gryffindors celebrated within the Common Room, jubilant over their victory. Pints of Butterbeer flowed freely and mounds of cakes and snacks were stacked up, courtesy of Dobby and the house-elf staff. The sound of music playing and students filtered through the air, and the atmosphere was full of life and happiness. A great blow had been struck to the pride of Slytherin House, and now the victorious Gryffindors were enjoying the spoils. 

Harry sat in the corner with Cho, kissing her hungrily, the two of them hidden in shadow from the other party-goers. Harry's lips ran a trial of small kisses up the nape of Cho's neck, causing her to moan in pleasure. "Great game today, my love. Just don't feel bad when I beat you."

Harry smiled, his eyes travelling the length of her sensual body. Cho was achingly beautiful in her school robes, but even more irresistible in casual wear. Tonight, she wore a red cotton blouse, hugging every curve, a black leather miniskirt and her usual knee-high black leather boots, encasing her long legs. "You can try, Cho. Don't plan on it, though!"

Cho laughed softly. "Ginny and the other Chasers are good, but it comes down to the Seeker in the end. And, let me tell you, I'm not going to go easy on you," she declared, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry whispered passionately, as they kissed again, feeling their warmth enshrouding them. He took a swig of Butterbeer, hearing the buzz of conversation around them. "By the way, Cho, who thought up the banners?"

"That was me," Cho said, beaming with pride. "I thought it would be a good idea to show some House pride, so a bunch of us got together and created the banners. Most of the school was supporting you, Harry, even kids from other Houses. That's a lot of support you can call on. Having the banners just helped them to feel good about themselves and their House. They help motivate them."

_She has a good heart_, Harry thought, even as he kissed her again. _She's kind, beautiful, intelligent, sexy. What have I done to deserve such an amazing woman by my side?_

Speeches were given by the Quidditch team, and toasts were made to their continued success, to a good school year, to winning the House Cup, it did not matter what. Before long, Harry was dancing with the members of his House and Cho, drinking whatever was forced into his hands, and losing himself to the overwhelming mirth and merriment. He felt himself become light-headed, his mind spinning with the music and drink.

Then Ginny was before him, her hair shining in the firelight, eyes bright with happiness. She reached down for Harry's hands, sweeping him towards her. Harry was entranced by her dazzling smile, head spinning. He heard her speak words that he could not understand, and the world became a blur of light and sound. He felt a woman's lips on his. Then he felt no more.


	12. The Third Champion

This chapter is also perhaps the darkest I've ever written, if I'm any judge. If you can't stand kidnapping or attempted rape, don't read this chapter! You have been warned.

**Chapter 12: The Third Champion**

Slytherin House awoke to chaos. After their crushing defeat by the Gryffindors, Malfoy and his cronies has consoled themselves with a night of binge-drinking and debauchery, drowning their discontent in a sea of whisky. The party had lasted long into the night and by the time the last Slytherin collapsed due to the alcohol, the entire House was drunk. Not just drunk, but insensible, giving Blaise plenty of time to get to work...

Pansy's bloodcurdling screams cut through Malfoy's alcohol-fogged mind, forcing the spoiled Slytherin awake. He winced as his hangover struck full-force, like an ice-pick smashing his temple. "What is it, Pansy?" he moaned, eyes half open.

"WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ME, DRACO!" Pansy screamed from within her dormitory. "I LOOK LIKE A LEPER!"

Sighing in exhaustion, Malfoy moved to retrieve his pants. Then stopped, his eyes snapping open. Then screamed, realizing where he was. Draco Malfoy, son of one of the most feared Death Eaters, heir to a massive family fortune, groomed and tutored to be one of Voldemort's lieutenants, had been pig-snared within the Slytherin Common Room. The rope was suspended from the ceiling, and Malfoy hung upside down by his ankles, his head two feet from the floor. He bellowed in rage, shouted for someone to cut him down, thrashing and trying to break free.

Furious cursing broke out from the dorms as Nott came out, drenched from head to toe in green pus. "Argh!" he shouted, trying to wipe it off. "I woke up, and I was covered in this shit! I can't get it off!"

"Nott," Malfoy's voice was deathly quiet.

"Yeah, Draco?"

"GET ME THE HELL DOWN! IF YOU DON'T GET ME DOWN WITHIN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I'LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!" Malfoy ranted, his face red with anger. "Get moving, you idiot!"

Parkinson stumbled out of her dormitory, looking utterly miserable. Her earlier estimation had been correct. Sores, boils and lesions covered her body, giving her the appearance of a plague victim. "Draco, help me!" she shrieked in terror, shivering uncontrollably.

Nott shied away from Parkinson, trailing pus out from behind him. "Don't come near me, woman, it might be contagious!"

Pansy turned on him with eyes blazing. "I PROBABLY GOT THIS FROM YOU, YOU PRICK!" she screamed, advancing forward menacingly.

"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!" Nott replied, equally angry. " YOU'VE BEEN PLOWED BY HALF THE GUYS IN THIS HOUSE, THAT'S PROBABLY HOW YOU GOT IT!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Malfoy roared, gritting his teeth in frustration. _Who keeps doing this?_ he thought to himself. A few days into the term, incidents of sabotage and pranks had struck Slytherin House like a plague of locusts. Barely a day went by without something bad happening. First, Pansy had lost her memory, forgetting everything about their plot to defeat Potter. Within the next few days, other students began to develop a kind of amnesia, all of them major participants in the plot.

Then there were other incidents. Crabbe and Goyle had their cherished (and extensive!) pornography collection destroyed. Several haughty Slytherin girls had their faces transfigured to those of pigs. Some students awoke with fingers turned to thumbs, while others were reduced to speaking gibberish for a full day. But there hadn't been an incident of this magnitude. Never had there been a pranking this extensive since the Marauders were at school.

Other students began to filter out of the dorms, many inflicted with other strange curses and aliments. One student couldn't stop slapping himself, his face red from the constant punishment. Another unfortunate soul was covered in soiled wool blankets, the oppressive stench of excrement burying his senses. A fourth-year boy screamed that the world had been turned upside down, while his girlfriend scratched her itchy arse, suffering from a terrible rash. The entire House was miserable, their morale battered and beaten by their loss against Gryffindor and these constant acts of mischief.

Finally, someone has the sense to cut Malfoy down, on his head. He sprung back up, rubbing his head with one hand and punching his rescuer with the other. "Fools, idiots!" he bellowed, shoving Housemates aside. "Crabbe, Goyle! GET OUT HERE!"

The ranks of the Slytherins shuffled nervously, then parted to reveal Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy's henchmen had been forced into a set of cheap female undergarments, their cheeks red with embarrassment. Nott snickered despite himself. "Did you two come out of the closet, or something?"

Screaming incoherently, Crabbe and Goyle launched themselves at Nott, massive fists rising and falling, smashing ribs and teeth. As they did, the pus covering Nott stuck to them, dripping and moulding all over their arms and hands, entangling the three of them in a gooey dog pile. Malfoy screamed for them to stop as other students joined in, trying to pull them apart, the pus holding them fast together. Finally, they were separated, Nott wiping pus and blood from his nose. "It was just a joke!" he pleaded. "Honestly..."

A quick Stunning Curse silenced him. Malfoy lowered his wand, glaring at the Slytherins, as if daring them to object. He turned back to Crabbe and Goyle, eyes murderous. "I told you two to watch my door!" he yelled at them, swearing a blue streak. "I told you to stand guard, to make sure that this didn't happen! WHY DIDN'T YOU?"

"We did, Draco, honest!" Goyle blabbered, listing a series of pathetic excuses, that it was dark, that they were cursed, that the intruder had used an Invisibility Cloak- above all, how it hadn't been their fault. Crabbe stood stock still, bottom lip trembling, terrified of what would happen to them if Draco told his father.

After a few moments of listening to Goyle, Malfoy waved his hand for silence. "Alright, will you two shut up!" he barked, massaging his aching head. _I'll have to get Pansy for this later_, he thought. _After she's cured._ There was only one explanation for how this could have happened. Someone had snuck in while they were drunk.

_Potter._

Malfoy gritted his teeth at the prospect of his arch-rival sneaking into the dungeons, attacking them while they were asleep, perhaps even stealing his women! Paranoid thoughts ran through his mind. _Who knows what Potter is capable of? He's survived the Dark Lord, infiltrating Slytherin House would be no problem..._

The eyes of every student in Slytherin House focused on him, nervously awaiting his instructions. Malfoy was the undisputed ruler of Slytherin House, even the seventh-years acknowledged it. A few had resisted, some had even spoken out against him. He had made examples of them, using intimidation and threats of violence to achieve his ends. One unfortunate dissident was even visited by the Death Eaters late one night. The Dark Lord knew that Slytherin House was a prime breeding ground for potential Death Eaters, and wanted to ensure that everything went smoothly.

"I've had enough," Malfoy declared coldly, moving over to Crabbe's side. "Crabbe, tell our turncoat friends to get ready. Chang will be ours before the night is out."

_

* * *

_

_The blossoms are beautiful this time of year_, Daelin Stormfury reflected, lightly brushing a blossom of the cherry tree that hung over him, the soft pink petals delicate in their magnificence. Beside him, Avalon of the Spirit Walkers sat in the lotus position, mentally readying herself for the spell. "I'm almost ready, Daelin," she whispered, her soft brunette curls waving in the breeze.

"Have you ingested enough warpstone for the link?" he inquired, his blue eyes meeting her yellow ones.

Avalon nodded. "Within limits, Daelin." Closing her eerily beautiful eyes, her brow furrowed as she concentrated, focusing her substantial telepathic powers, super-charged by the solution of warpstone dust she had drunk earlier. Stormfury began to chant the activation sequence for the spell, placing a broad hand on her back.

The spell they were attempting was the Spirit Link, a powerful method of communication over long distances. Fueled by warpstone powder, an incredible powerful and rare substance that boosted human telepathic energies, Avalon became a living conduit, her mind reaching out across oceans to another Spirit Walker, also engaged in the same spell. The bridge of the Spirit Walker's minds was a telepathic link, allowing Stormfury to communicate with the recipient on the other end.

Stormfury concentrated, muttering the final stages of the spell. As he did, another presence reached his mind, awe-inspiring in its power. _Hail, Magnus Frosthowler, Asgard of the Shadow Hunters! May the blessings of the Earthmother be upon you!_ he greeted it, addressing his superior.

_Hail, Praetor Stormfury! May Gaea's blessings be upon you as well. What do you have to report?_ the presence asked, his thoughts calm.

_The training of the Daemonslayer goes well, Asgard_, Stormfury replied. _The Champion of Ravenclaw has shown great talent as well._

_Have their energies sparked yet?_ Frosthowler questioned. _And what of the Champions of Hufflepuff and Slytherin, what news?_

Stormfury sighed. _The energies have not sparked, Asgard, and Hufflepuff and Slytherin are nowhere to be found. Regardless, Potter and Chang have shown great skill in at swordplay, and Lady Avalon has been tutoring the Daemonslayer to block the presence of the Dark Lord from his mind._

_Swords alone will not defeat this foe, Praetor. Already, Seros and the Spirit Walkers have sensed...ripples, disturbances in the flow of magic. The signs point to danger on the horizon, and without their energies unbound, the Champions cannot hope to fight the Dark Lord and succeed. Avalon has done well, but more is needed. Do all you can to protect the Champions, and hasten their awakening._

_Of course, Asgard_, Stormfury replied. Magnus Frosthowler was the master of the Shadow Hunters, a veteran of countless battles against the Darkness, and a member of the Council of Gaea. His knowledge of the arts of Elementalism was unsurpassed, but the Shadow Hunter Asgard seemed...uneasy. _Is something wrong, Asgard? _

_Yes, Daelin, there is. The Dark Lord has been silent as of late, but I fear this is the calm before the storm. Our efforts cannot be jeopardized. Defend the Champions, Shadow Hunter, and know that Gaea watches over you! Good luck._

The link faded, then disappeared, and Stormfury leaned back, analysing what the elder Shadow Hunter told him. Avalon looked at him quizzically. "What did the Asgard Frosthowler say?" she asked, observing his confused expression.

"Defend the Champions, Avalon. And with the Earthmother as my guide, I will bring the bright flame to the Darkness, and destroy it."

* * *

The roar of the crowds enveloped Harry, standing on the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, his Firebolt in hand. The entire school had gathered to watch the festivities, cheering from the stands as Gryffindor and Slytherin prepared to face off in this game. 

_Wait, didn't we play them, and beat them, already?_

Beside him, Ginny grinned, her lips as red as blood. "Care for a taste of me, Harry?" she whispered seductively, letting her Quidditch robes fall to the grass beneath her. Totally nude, she stood in front of Harry, blood dripping from her hair. "That bitch doesn't deserve you," she growled, kissing him hard, her curved frame pressing against him.

_Wait, this isn't right._

"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HERE'S SLYTHERIN!" Dean Thomas bellowed from the teacher's booth, his voice hollow and disembodied.

The outer doors of the Slytherin locker room were blown open, and bestial howls and unearthly shrieks erupted from within, their hellish tone tearing and ripping away at Harry's soul. He felt his heart go cold with fear. "Hey, guys, what's goi-" His breath caught in his throat, seeing the Gryffindors dead before him. All along the stands, students and teachers alike crumpled, hearts, minds and souls failing. They had been dead for the past hour anyway.

Nightmarish visions of destruction and torment swam before his senses, each more horrifying than the last, London in flames, entire civilizations struck down with terrifying plagues and contagions, the Dementors feasting on the souls of cities, giants massacring civilian populations with gleeful abandon, young women tortured and violated by laughing Death Eaters, goblins and Muggles shackled and turned into slaves, twisted mutants killing at will, vampire-run factories draining the blood from children and infants at a machine-like rate, the dead rising from their graves, daemonic entities spreading chaos and mayhem, death, death, even more death...

Then there was a final image, more horrifying than all the others. Voldemort stood in a clearing with his Inner Circle, laughing and chuckling manically around a lone figure, shaking with fear. Cho, naked except for her beautiful raven-black hair, exposed for all to see. They raped and tortured her in turn, as she begged and pleaded for release, then sliced off her hair, the Ravenclaw beauty screaming in terror. Body and mind broken, they crucified her, hoisting her onto the cross and hammering her in place.

Voldemort applied the Cruciatus Curse on her and she screamed, vainly trying to free herself, writhing under its effects. The Dark Lord turned towards Harry, a smile on his lipless mouth. "Enjoying the show, Potter?" he asked calmly.

Harry screamed in rage, seeing his love in torment. "COME AND FACE ME, VOLDEMORT! SHE'S NOT PART OF THIS!"

Voldemort turned back to Cho, licking her face. "You have a very beautiful whore here, Potter. Perhaps I'll make her mine. I haven't had a woman, much less a Chink, in a very long time."

Veins bulged in Harry's temple. "I'VE BEAT YOU BEFORE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he howled, the energies of Gryffindor building up within. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, BASTARD! FIGHT ME LIKE A WARRIOR!"

At a signal from Voldemort, a red-masked Death Eater plunged a dagger into Cho's heart. Her head jerked back, then hung down, blood gushing from her mouth. "Sorry, Potter," Voldemort said, red eyes blazing with glee, "but the Ruinous Powers must be satisfied."

With a terrified scream, Harry shot up from his bed, clothes drenched in cold sweat, the sheets tangled around him. A heavy weight slid off his legs and fell onto the floor with a thump. Harry screamed his lungs out, taking in great gulps of air, looking around wildly. _Just a dream_, he realized, trying to calm himself down. After a moment, his breathing slowed, his heart-rate steadied and the energies of Gryffindor settled again.

"Huh? Harry?" came a small voice. Sprawled on the floor was Ginny, dressed only in a pair of white panties and a white t-shirt, blood-red hair hanging like a halo around her, a look of concern on her face. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry's wand was out in an instant. "What the hell were you doing in my bed?" he asked, his voice deadly.

Ginny blushed. "Just comforting you, Harry," she replied, sitting down beside him. "You looked sick last night, so I came to make sure you were alright. What happened?"

Harry grabbed Ginny by the wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and pinning her face-first into the mattress, his wand at her throat. "Did we have sex last night?" he demanded, ignoring her squeals of pain.

Ginny didn't respond, so Harry increased the pressure. "No, no, we didn't," she screeched, fear creeping into her voice. "I just wanted to help! You deserve our support!"

"Where's Cho?" Harry yelled. "WHERE!"

"Probably back in her dorm," Ginny said, tears of discomfort forming in the corners of her eyes. "Could you please let go of me?"

Harry released her, and she sat back up, rubbing her wrist to restore circulation. "What's the problem, Harry? I didn't have sex with you, I swear. Besides, I think you enjoyed us sharing a bed," she said, slowly crawling towards him, a mischievous smile on her pouting lips.

"Stay away from me," Harry whispered, pushing her away.

Ginny looked aghast at his rejection. "I'm just trying to help you, Harry! Cho's just using you; I saw it in her eyes last night. She's nothing but a weeping tramp. You need someone stronger, Harry, crying never beat Death Eaters."

"Oh, I assume you had yourself in mind?" Harry sneered in disgust. "Now, you should go back to your dorm. Ron and Dean won't be too happy if they saw us together."

Ginny laughed softly, all the while moving closer. "They're too hung-over from last night," she declared, pointing over to their sleeping forms. "Besides, you're a greater man than they are." She was very close by this point, her ample bosom pressed against him. Harry tasted honey on her breath, her lips centimetres away from his. "Say the word, Harry, and I'll leave Dean and join you. You are the leader of this House, no one denies this. You can have anything you want here, homework answers, fame, glory, power, me..." she whispered, their lips joining.

Harry felt the bile rise in his throat as she kissed him, gentle at first, but harder, more demanding as time went on. _I'm betraying Cho..._he thought, tasting a distinct flavour of honey. He felt Ginny become excited as she kissed him, running her hands through his messy hair. _Just like Cho...No!_

Ginny broke the kiss, frowning as he didn't respond. "Cho will _destroy_ this House, Harry. Already, many people are beginning to speak out against her. You can't depend on her kind. But together, Harry, we can make the House stronger. Gryffindor and Gryffindor," she whispered excitedly. "We _don't_ need any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs to win. We can beat Malfoy, You-Know-Who, anyone without them! Since when have the Ravenclaws walked out of their ivory tower to fight the Death Eaters? When has Hufflepuff House ever fought to protect our freedoms? Only we have. Please Harry, a union of our love will be unstoppable!"

For what seemed like an eternity, Harry did not respond, his eyes closed shut. Eventually, he looked at Ginny, a tear tricking down his cheek. "I am in love with a woman, Ginny, and you _are not her._"

Ginny paled at the comment, and Harry walked out of the dorm, his heart a tempest of emotions. _Doesn't she know how much I love Cho? Doesn't she know how much she hurts me when she says things like that?_

* * *

The letter from her parents lay crumpled on the floor, stained by her tears. Cho stood within the Simulation Room, dressed in a sky-blue kimono, wielding her katana with lethal force, the razor-sharp edge slicing through illusionary opponents like butter. Cho sobbed slightly, driving her sword through an enemy's face. With every slash, she saw the faces of her parents demanding and criticizing. She saw Ginny's face, laughing harshly, taunting her in her grief, chuckling at her sorrow. _He's mine now, bitch!_ came her venomous howls. 

With a scream of torment, Cho slashed downwards, scything the final illusion in half, then tossed away the sword, the metal hitting the floor with a harsh clang. She sank down on her knees, the tears flowing freely now. _Why are they so intent on destroying my happiness? Harry has been good to me. Why must you deny me my peace?_

She heard Harry's footsteps before she saw him. "Hello, Harry," she whispered, feeling the tears well up again. Immediately, she tried to stop them from flowing, but the pain was too great. _Damn them! I cannot love that...thing!_

Harry's arms circled around her, holding her tightly, his presence calming her down. "What's wrong, Cho?" Harry whispered, as if a loud word would bring the roof tumbling down on them.

Cho picked up the letter and shoved it into his hands, wiping away the last of her tears. Harry's jaw dropped as he read the note contained. "Oh my God. Cho?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I knew that they were planning this, but I didn't know when, or to whom I was to be married to," Cho said, her eyes filled with misery. "I am to be sold, Harry, sold like a whore in a brothel. My parents have arranged this marriage without my consent, without my approval, to a man I cannot, and will not, love. They're incredibly traditional, and believe that a child should follow the orders of their parents without question. They have dictated most of my life out for me, Harry, and now this..." Cho broke down, the tears rushing forth uncontrollably, her chest heaving as she sobbed.

Instinctively, Harry hugged her, feeling her body quaked with hysterics. He whispered calming words into her ear, kissing her forehead. "What kind of person is this?" he asked, holding her close.

The look of hatred in Cho's eyes was apparent as she related, "He is a toad. A festering, racist, sexist, hedonistic toad, by the name of Zhang Han San, the son of the Chinese Minister of Magic. He has often spoken of his conquests of women, and utterly hates the West. He is _exactly_ the kind of Maoist scum my grandparents fled during the Great Leap Forward. And now he desires me as a wife."

Harry clasped her tightly, rocking her back and forth to calm her down. _We're very similar,_ he thought, pity and rage warring in his heart. _Our lives have been controlled since the day of our birth. Dumbledore has used me to fight Voldemort, while Cho's parents are forcing her into this marriage._

"I guess you hate me now," Cho sniffed.

Harry shook his head. "No, how could I hate you, Cho? I will never hate you," he reassured her, kissing her lightly on the lips. "We've been controlled for too long."

Cho smiled slightly at his declaration. "Both mine and his are pure-blood families, though not the radical types like the Malfoys. However, our parents have judged that, due to our heritage and purity of blood, we're made for each other. Zhang isn't interested in any of that. He's just wants me as a lover, someone to ravage as he pleases, and I'll probably have to share him with his concubines. Being son to the Chinese Minister of Magic has its privileges."

She took in a deep breath before continuing. "Not all Chinese families are like this, especially amongst the foreign-born ones. But Zhang, he is cruel. Once, I saw him torture a slave over spilt tea. He uses slaves, Harry, not house-elves or paid servants, but human slaves, mainly Falun Gong practitioners. He despises them even more than the West."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. He was sure that Hermione, a Muggle-born student, could help him with many of these concepts, but from what he had learned by watching the nightly news at Privet Drive, China had one of the worst human-rights records in the world, a fact that many Western corporations chose to ignore. The persecution of Falun Gong practitioners was just the tip of the iceberg.

"I cannot love him. Love is not something that can be forced upon someone, and I will not marry that git," Cho spat, her voice tense and determined. "I would rather die than share a bed with that...thing. My parents have other ideas, but I won't allow this to happen. I am my own person, and I will not be sold like a piece of meat at a market."

Harry kissed her again. "Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you."

"Thank you, Harry," she replied, her voice soft as velvet. "The marriage won't be for a while, a year or two at least, and my parents may decide that he's not right and call it off. But, either way, I'm not marrying him, because I'm in love with _you_, Harry, and you're ten times the man Zhang is. My parents will hate me for loving a foreigner, but I'll let them. I would gladly suffer their hate for the rest of my life, if it meant being with you..."

They kissed each other hard, their pent-up passions coming to the fore, the warmth of their bodies arousing them even more. Cho ran her hands through Harry's hair, rubbing her long legs up against him. They continued kissing, moaning in pleasure at the feel of their lips upon one another, their arms holding them close.

A terrible lust filled Harry, and he grabbed her by the hips and pushed her onto the stone wall, hands moving. Her back against the wall, he kissed her with incredible passion, one hand roaming to her breasts, the other running a trail up her smooth legs, up to her inner thigh.

Cho gasped in pleasure, feeling Harry's hands there, her back arching forward. Her hands reached behind her back, and the knot of the kimono sash came undone. She let the kimono fall the floor, Harry's eyes widening as he saw her only in a thin cream robe, her glorious attributes hidden only by translucent silk. They continued kissing, and Harry felt her hands unbuckle his belt, sending his pants down. The shock of her warm hands there shocked Harry from his possessive lust. "Umm, Cho, maybe we shouldn't..." he said, voice trailing off.

The Ravenclaw beauty stopped, realizing what she had just done. "Merlin, Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to rush you, sweet Merlin..."

Harry silenced her with a light kiss. "It's fine, my love, it's fine," he whispered, sneaking a glance at her curved body. It took all of his self-restraint to keep from ravaging her right then and there... "I just had a nightmare about you and Voldemort, and when I didn't see you in Gryffindor Tower, I feared the worst."

"Don't worry, Harry," Cho replied, kissing his forehead, "let's not have him stand between us." She paused for a moment. "I saw Ginny was pretty interested in you last night."

Harry blushed despite himself. "Since you told me about your family, I might as well tell you about what happened. When I woke up from the nightmare, I saw that Ginny was in bed with me."

Cho gasped in shock. "WHAT? You didn't have sex with her, did you?" she asked, obviously concerned. "Did she take advantage of you while you were drunk?"

Harry laughed. "No, we were fine. I think she kissed me last night though."

"Yep, she kissed you. I don't know what you had to drink, but it definitely loosened you up. I left only after she screamed at me to get out. Interesting girl there, Ginny."

"Don't worry, Cho, I would never even think of cheating on you. First, Ginny's with Dean. Second, if I tried anything, Ron would beat me to a pulp. Third, I'm in love with a beautiful, sexy, intelligent, kind, loving young woman from Ravenclaw," he said, his lips kissing the nape of her neck.

"So, you like Marietta, do you?" Cho asked jokily. Harry's laughter echoed throughout the corridors, his mind put at ease with his love safe and at his side.

* * *

The fading summer sun set upon Hogwarts, blood-red and glorious in its dying days. The first of the chill north winds blew through the trunks and boles of the Forbidden Forest, signalling the first onset of fall. Soon, these winds would grow in number and strength, and the castle would taste the cold bite of a harsh winter. 

The beauty of the last days of warmth for the year could not reach the depths of the Slytherin dungeons. Carved deep within the underbelly of the school, the Slytherin Common Room was deserted, all of the students already within their dormitories. Except for one.

Blaise Zabini nestled herself into an expensive leather chair, dressed in a thick cotton robe, enjoying an old novel her father had given her. Blaise's startling blue eyes travelled over the pages, devouring every detail. Her father had read her many stories as a child, tales of fable and romance, dragons and beautiful maidens, fairy tales really. Even after all this time, she had not totally gotten over her father's death. The photos were burned into her memory, her father's body cut up, hanging from a noose, eyes terrified in death...A single tear rolled down her cheek. _I miss you, Daddy._

The fairy-tale world her father had painted for her was totally unlike the world she came to experience when she turned eleven. Here, she found only schemes and plots and treason. Every word was guarded, every thought contained, every action obscured. Your best friend could be your worst enemy. A friendly greeting or compliment could conceal a serious insult. For a girl raised in a peaceful primary school and the luxurious home of her parents, the environment of Slytherin House seemed alien, poisonous.

But, she survived. Her mother had been in Slytherin, and taught her how to act and behave and appear amongst them. Combined with her father's lessons on cunning and manipulation, she had been able to move amongst the Slytherins at will. She learned the game they played, and became better at it than everyone else. Beauty and riches were the only languages spoken in Slytherin House, and she was fluent in both. In this sordid world of whores and Dark magic, she was a wolf. _Beware my fangs_, she thought with a smile.

A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off any potential scream. Blaise's left hand reached for her wand, and stopped, her wrist seized in a powerful grip. The chair was kicked out from underneath her, her father's book knocked to the ground, and a sharp knee touched the small of her back. "Start walking," a disguised masculine voice ordered, moving her forward, all while keeping a firm grip on her.

Blaise's scream of panic was muffled by the assailant's hand. He chuckled. "Yes, I like it when my women scream. It's very arousing," he purred seductively into her ear. His voice was slurred, like he had a speech impediment, or had been drinking.

The willowy Slytherin continued to struggle, screaming in vain, her eyes wide with terror. Her assailant swore, then let go of her mouth. As Blaise's terrified cries pierced the stillness of the dungeons, she felt a sharp wooden object touch her temple. She heard the incantation, "_Stupefy!_" She saw a streak of red as the curse hit, then blacked out.

* * *

Cho sat in the comforting silence of the library, jotting down some notes, a quill holding her hair in place. She sighed, wishing to feel Harry's kisses again. For the remainder of the day, she and Harry had relaxed, chatting by the lakeshore, and snogging. Her mind wandered back to the events of the morning, shuddering at the memory of Harry's hands caressing regions previously forbidden, his touch bringing her to the edge of ecstasy...She had never gone that far before with anyone, and almost lost total control in that moment, consumed in a tidal wave of excitement. For what she had seen in Harry's eyes, he had felt the same way too. But for now, she was in the library, the faint torchlight illuminating the corridors darkened by night, catching up on the last items of schoolwork. 

"Hello, Cho!" Hermione greeted cheerfully, taking a seat across from her.

"Hello, Hermione," Cho replied, seeing the mass of books Hermione had laid out. "What brings you here?"

"It's about Harry," the quick-witted Gryffindor declared, observing Cho with an intent gaze. "What exactly are your intentions with him?"

Cho sighed, slightly shocked by Hermione's directness. "Is Harry your girlfriend?" she probed back, with equal directness.

Hermione blushed. "No, Harry and me are nothing like that. He's like the brother I never had really, and I just don't want to see him get hurt. You're the only girl has ever looked at that way."

"Do you think that I'm planning to hurt him?" Cho asked, voice ice-cold.

"No, of course not," Hermione said quickly, eager to placate her. "Listen, when Harry told us that you were back together again, quite frankly, we were shocked, especially after what happened last year."

"Our semi-official relationship, or Sirius?" Cho asked, watching Hermione's jaw drop in amazement.

"He told you about Sirius?"

"Yes," Cho said, her demeanour calm. "We have no secrets from each other."

Hermione blushed. "That's good. Harry needs someone like you with him. Losing Sirius really hit him hard, and none of us want him to feel that kind of pain again."

Cho nodded. "Agreed. Harry's been pulled every which way by the people he thought he could trust. Both he and I have worked past our past differences and we're happy with each other. I could never hurt him like that, and I'm not going to let some Death Eater stand in the way of his happiness."

"Good to hear, Cho," Hermione said, beaming. _She's an amazing person, once you get to know her_. "We've had our differences, but let's work together to help Harry, okay? Cho?"

Cho wasn't listening, hearing instead the sound of soft footfalls on the library floor. A shadow moved behind a bookcase, partially hidden from the light. Ever so slowly, Cho drew her wand, whispering out of the corner of her mouth, "When I give the signal, jump 'em? Ready?"

Hermione nodded her head slightly, catching a glimpse of auburn eyes.

"NOW!" Cho screamed, raising her wand. Hermione sprang up from her seat, running behind the bookcase. "_Stupefy!_" Two stunners hit the target, followed by a feminine shriek, and the intruder hit the floor.

"Got her!" Hermione declared. "Oh, Ginny! You scared us half to death! _Enervate!_"

Several seconds later, Ginny appeared from behind the shelves, face red with anger. Hermione walked up to her sheepishly. "Sorry, Gin, didn't recognize you," she apologized, brushing some dust of her blouse.

Ginny ignored her, her auburn gaze locked on Cho, filled with utter disgust. "I see the Ravenclaw _whore_ is here," she said, spitting out the word. "Haven't you hurt Harry enough?"

Cho's blood boiled as Ginny continued to insult her. "What, Michael wasn't performing? Or are you just planning on sleeping with every guy in this school, Chang?" she asked mockingly.

The Ravenclaw beauty stood up, trying to keep her anger in check. "What do you want, Ginny?"

"You away from Harry, you stinking harlot," Ginny growled, flexing her fingers as if preparing to strangle Cho. "I know your kind, you and your giggling Ravenclaw friends. You scheme and cheat and deceive, how like the Slytherins you are. Harry needs someone he can depend on, not some bed-hopper."

"Oh, and I assume you and Harry would make a perfect match?" Cho asked sarcastically, maintaining her cool. "Ginny, I realize I've made mistakes, but we shouldn't be fighting like this. I'm willing to work with you, for Harry's sake."

Ginny froze for a moment, then resumed her offensive. "How _dare_ you mention Harry! You're not fit to speak his name, you Asian bitch!" she howled.

"Ginny!" Hermione's horror was apparent.

"Shut up, Hermione!" Ginny snapped, before turning back to Cho. "You may have tricked Harry with your charms, but you won't trick me. I _will never _forgive you for the crimes you have committed against him, and as long as I live, I am going to make sure you never get a chance to hurt him." She spat on Cho's right boot, spittle running down the black leather.

Cho took several deep breaths before continuing, and when she did, her voice was as cold as the north wind. "The only reason you're still standing right now is because you're Harry's friend. I have made my share of mistakes, Weasley, but at the very least, I didn't crawl into his bed when he was drunk and molest him!" she shouted, struggling to keep the energies of Ravenclaw in check, hearing its shriek in her soul. "Harry and I are together because we _choose_ to, and we continue to choose to. That should be good enough for you, and if you ever try to take advantage of him again, I'll return you to your brothers in a shoebox."

"Is that a threat, Chang?" Ginny asked, face flushed with anger.

"It's a statement of fact, Weasley," came Cho's response. "Now, if we are done bandying, I have some work to do for Ancient Runes. Good evening!"

Eyes blazing with anger, Ginny stormed off, her bright red hair flowing down her back. Cho sat down again, going into a breathing exercise to calm herself. Hermione chuckled slightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Cho replied. "That girl just makes me so angry!"

"Don't worry about her, she'll come around eventually. Soon, she'll realize that she only distances herself from Harry by hating you, so she'll stop."

Cho smiled up at Harry's friend, and now hers. "Thanks, 'Mione. So, tell me about you guys, when did you meet?"

"Well, I guess it all started with the troll..."

* * *

"_Enervate!_" 

Slowly, Blaise opened her eyes, revived from a bad dream, into an even greater nightmare. A single light shone, blinding her, all the while leaving the rest of the room in darkness. Her wrists had been lashed in front of her with thin cord, cutting cruelly into her flesh, causing a small trickle of blood to flow. Blaise looked around her, desperate to determine her location. She had been stripped down to her lace underclothes, the dampness of the dungeons contacting her skin, causing her to shiver. The creak of bedsprings sounded beneath her as she struggled, a gag filling her mouth, muffling her screams and secured so tightly she could barely breathe. The stench of sex and fear, her fear, filled her nostrils.

"Hello, Blaise," came the voice, low and terrifying. A lone figure, dressed in black robes leaned forward, face covered with a black mask.

The assailant looked at his helpless, writhing captive with unmistakeable lust, his eyes misted with alcohol, the front of his robes stained with drink. The colour of his eyes and the pitch of his voice constantly shifted and altered at random, indicating the use of advanced camouflage charms. He tittered insanely, shaking his head, clutching a bottle in his left hand, tracing Blaise's chest with his wand. Suddenly, he let go of the bottle and slapped her viciously, a red welt forming on her cheek. He was stone drunk, but that was not an excuse for what he was doing.

"Comfortable, Blaise? Of course, you're in your knickers," he stated, his voice slurred and distorted. Blaise remained silent, determined not to show fear, to show that he had power over her. She fought to stay awake, the relative lack of air making her drowsy.

The cloaked figure chuckled, moving over to the bed. "Do you know how long I've wanted you?" he asked huskily, his hot breath on her neck. Gingerly, he removed the saliva stained gag. "You're beautiful, you know that, right?"

Blaise spat in his face, squirming away from him, her blue eyes blazing with hatred. "Release me. Now," she demanded, her voice cold and determined. She flexed her wrists in an effort to break free, but to no avail. "Release me, before I call for Professor Snape."

The cloaked figure put a hand on her exposed belly, pushing her down onto the mattress. "Maybe not," he whispered, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

Inwardly, Blaise screamed as he forced her lips open, his tongue plundering her mouth greedily. She felt his hand roam up her body, and kicked out, trying to push him away, but the figure put down his full weight, pinning her to the sheets. Breaking the kiss, he shifted attention to her neck. "Your bed is a perfect place to do this, you stinking bitch," he growled.

"Get off me," Blaise said, shuddering as he kissed her. "Get off me!"

Unimpressed, the cloaked figure fondled her breasts, the pain causing tears to form. Blaise felt the anger build up inside her. In a moment, she would be totally naked, and her assailant would commit the most heinous act that could be performed on a woman. Her bonds remained as tight as ever. The anger built, growing stronger with every moment, pounding like a bomb ready to go off. "I said _GET OFF OF ME!_"

As she screamed, something snapped inside her, and the rage burst forth in a way never thought possible. A door to her soul opened a crack, and the masked man was thrown from the bed by _something_, slamming into a wall with incredible force. He moaned in pain once, then was still.

Blaise shot up, taking in great breaths, hyperventilating, eyes wild with confusion. She felt _whatever _it was settle down, coiling and twisting in her soul like some monstrous serpent, leaving behind a lingering discomfort. But for those few moments, the rush of power was incredible, every cell in her body supercharged. For the briefest of instants, she thought she was God, capable of doing or achieving anything.

Blaise tried to calm down, but the terror of her attempted rape and this power were too much to bear. She retched onto the silk sheets, her mind whirling. _What's happening to me?_ she thought, moving to her bed-side cabinet. Someone would have heard, and would come to investigate, and she wanted to be gone when they arrived. Stretching out her fingers, she opened the top drawer, rummaging through with her hands still bound. Finally, her fingers closed around a small knife. Dexterously, she cut the cords, rubbing her wrists to restore circulation. She glanced over at the figure, knocked out cold. _No time to see who it is, have to get out!_ her mind blared.

Fists pounding on the door shook her from her reverie. Moving quickly, she grabbed a single article from her clothes drawer and draped her in it, moving for the exit.

Slytherin House had become a death-trap, and she fled.

* * *

"So, Hermione," Cho asked, finishing the last of her work, "hoping to be Head Girl next year?" 

Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Yes, hopefully. It's always been my goal in school. I was almost sure you'd be this year, Cho! Your marks are good enough."

Cho shook her head. "No, I actually refused to become a Prefect when Professor Flitwick offered to make me one in my fifth year. Quidditch was my first love, and still is to some extent, and I didn't want to be interfered with-"

A massive form leapt from the corner of her vision, tackling her to the ground, the air knocked from her lungs. Cho caught sight of a pair of hazel eyes before the lights went out, shrouding the room in darkness. The figure straddled her, pinning her wrists to the floor. Beside her, Cho could hear Hermione was in a similar position; the bushy-haired Gryffindor struggling against another figure, screaming and squirming. She felt his breath tickle her lips. "You're mine now, bitch!" he shouted in triumph, leaning in for a kiss.

With blazing speed, Cho leaned her head forward, butting him in the face, momentarily stunning him. "You ugly bit-" he roared, his rebuttal cut off as Cho kneed him violently in the crotch, gasping in pain. A sharp right hook to the face, and the attacker released her, rolling on the floor, one hand to his nose, the other to his groin.

Springing back up, Cho drew her wand. "Hey, you!" she barked, causing Hermione's assailant to rear up, his eyes twinkling in the dark. "_Reducto!_" The curse slammed into his chest, throwing him five feet skidding along the floor.

"Hermione!" Cho shouted. "You okay?"

Light glowed from the end of her wand. "I'm fine," Hermione replied, slightly shaken, the light illuminating her scared expression. "What in Merlin's name happened?"

Cho moved to the figure she had incapacitated, motioning Hermione and her light over. The figure was clad in jet-black robes imitating the style of the Death Eaters, his face covered with a black mask, with only his eyes visible. Cho began to remove the straps that held his mask in place. "Any idea who this is?" she asked, hearing her assailant moan in pain.

"_Stupefy!_" The curse missed her head by inches. Hermione pulled her away.

"Later, Cho! We've got trouble!" she said, pointing at more cloaked figures emerging from the gloom.

"There they are! After them!"

Cho and Hermione took off in a run, breath harsh from the terror of the pursuit, the footfalls of the black-cloaked figures sounding close behind. All around them, the torches had been extinguished, the only light coming from the soft glow of Hermione's wand and the twinkle of the stars. _Almost like they had planned this, whomever they are,_ Cho thought, a plan forming. Hermione's breathing was ragged and frightened, while Cho maintained a stoic pace, her stamina built up from the summer. Their pursuers, about twelve in total, were obviously not built for the chase, but they had numbers on their side, and were gaining.

Cho knew how this was going to end. In the pitch black of the halls, they could be running in circles. _Enough running_. She turned to Hermione. "Douse your light!"

"What?"

"Do it!" Cho hissed, as Hermione whispered, "Nox!", the light dimming, leaving them in darkness. "Now head to Gryffindor Tower, and get help! I'll hold them off. Go!" As Hermione fled into the night, Cho prepared herself, knowing that she would have only seconds before her pursuers were upon her. Quickly, she took off her high-heeled boots, bare feet touching the cold stone. She listened as the cloaked figures approached her with reckless abandon, unaware of her presence. She focused on the memory of her and Harry kissing in the Hospital Wing during the summer, then shielded her eyes.

When the assailants were five feet away, she raised her wand, screaming, "_Expecto Patronum!_" White light flared from the tip of her wand, and her Patronus burst forth in a rush of light and energy, its majestic swan form barrelling into the ranks of the black-cloaked figures, the sudden flare of light blinding her hunters.

Cho grinned despite herself, uncovering her eyes after the Patronus disappeared. "_Reducto!_" she whispered softly, the curse ramming into one of the figures. "_Stupefy!_" Another fell unconscious. "_Concussionus!_" Her Blasting Curse detonated within their ranks, catapulting a cloaked form backwards, pounding others into the walls. With their night-vision ruined by her Patronus and all stealth lost, Cho tore a decisive swath through their ranks, firing off a curse, then moving to attack from another angle, using the darkness to her advantage, striking like a wraith.

Unfortunately, the attackers quickly adapted. "_Revealous!_" one of their number shouted, sending a bright green flare towards the ceiling, the shining light revealing the scene before them. Cho, caught in the open, dodged to one side. "_Stupefy!_" Red beams shot towards her, hitting paintings and suits of armour. One painting came awake, demanded to know the meaning of this intrusion, then shrieked as a Burning Curse licked the canvas.

"_Stupefy!_" More Stunning Curses blazed towards Cho, her lithe form leaping out of their path. She felt a blazing hot pain as a curse grazed her cheek, landing painfully on her ankle, the shock sending her off balance. The black-cloaked attackers surged forward.

Gritting her teeth in pain, Cho stood back up, wand ready. "_Reducto!_" A foe was thrown backwards with a whimper. "_Bludgeous!_" The Projectile Hex rebounded off a suit of armour, smashing into an opponent's gut. She narrowly dodged a Jelly-Legs Hex, then retaliated with another Stunning Curse, the enemy beginning to fall back. Turning her head, she saw the twinkle of lights approach from the end of the hall. _Enemies or friends?_ she wondered, as the last of the black-cloaked attackers fell back, taking their injured comrades with them. Her ankle throbbing, Cho decided to let them go, breathing a sigh of relief. _Hopefully, Harry will be here soon..._

A Reductor Curse slammed into her chest, accompanied by the cracking of a rib, knocking the wind out of her and throwing her backwards onto the stone floor. A lone figure appeared from out of the darkness, grabbing Cho by the hair and jerking her upright, exposing her throat. "Let this be a lesson to you, stinking Ravenclaw bitch," he snarled, placing the tip of his wand on her throat. "Don't mess with the Sons of Enigma. As much as I'd like to fuck you raw, you're too dangerous alive."

"_Reducto!_" The curse flew from out of nowhere, catching him in the arm, spinning him around. "_Expelliarmus!_" Another curse barely missed him. Cho's eyes widened in shock, seeing a lone hand floating in mid-air, wielding a wand with incredible speed. The black-cloaked figure whimpered and ran, a curse hot on his heels.

"CHO!" Suddenly, Harry was beside her, with Ron, Hermione, and a dozen Gryffindors close behind. "Thank Merlin you're alright! What happened?"

Cho pointed to the hand still hovering above the floor. "Harry, what's that?" she asked, awe and fear laced in her voice.

"An Invisibility Cloak," Hermione whispered. "But who's hiding under it?"

Drawing his wand, Harry slowly approached the apparation. "Reveal yourself!" he ordered in an authoritative voice. "If you are a friend, take off the Cloak."

Gagging sounds could be heard from beneath the Cloak of Cho's mystery saviour. Harry reached forward, his hands closing around seemingly nothing, then pulled hard.

Blaise Zabini was exposed underneath, dressed in only a black bra and panties, violently retching upon the floor, her body racked with chills, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, tears running down her face. After emptying the contents of her stomach, she turned to Harry, a dazed expression on her face. "Potter...help," she moaned, before finally collapsing.

Harry and Cho rushed over to her side, Cho applying a Heating Charm to warm her up. "Who is she?"

"She's my Potions partner," Harry said, attempting to revive her. "Damn, she's out cold. We should get her to the Hospital Wing, and you too, Cho."

"No sign of the buggers, mate," Ron reported, having explored further up the hallway. The words caught in his mouth as he saw the beautiful Slytherin half-naked on the floor. "God, Harry, what happened to her?"

"No idea," Harry replied. "Here, let's conjure some stretchers for them. Don't worry, Cho, you're in good hands."

Cho shook her head. "Don't worry, Harry, I'll be fine," she declared, taking a step forward. Immediately, she wished she hadn't, the pain lancing up her leg, her ankle clearly sprained during the melee. "On second thought, I'll take the stretcher."

* * *

"Please, Harry, try to calm down!" Hermione whispered back in Gryffindor Tower. After Cho and Blaise had been placed in the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey, the boisterous woman had shooed them out, and only Cho's kind words had kept Harry from hexing her into next week. As it was, Harry took his anger out on a water jug within the Common Room, cursing himself for not being there to defend his love. The other Gryffindors had returned to their dorms, shaken by the mysterious attack. Katie Bell and the Prefects stood guard over them, whispering nervously. Professor McGonagall had briefly entered Gryffindor Tower and tried to provide reassurance, but with little effect. The entire House had been thrown off balance by the black-cloaked figures, their confidence bruised by their cerebral viciousness. Some, in hushed and terrified tones, mentioned the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, fear gnawing away at their souls. 

Ron quietly stepped around the shattered fragments of pottery, approaching his best friend with even more bad news in the form of a crumpled piece of parchment. "I've sent the D.A. Gryffindors out on patrol, no sign of the bastards, mate. We did find this, though."

Quickly, Harry snatched the note from Ron, his blood boiling as he read its contents, written in fine handwriting:

'_For too long, the House of Gryffindor has bullied and subjugated the population of this school into following its beliefs. The sons and daughters of noble pure-blood families are brainwashed and converted, their heritage and prowess stripped away. Muggle-borns defile our fair bloodlines, spawning twisted Mudbloods and abominations. The Muggle conspiracy against us has reached new heights, thanks in part to Gryffindor House. While the other Houses look on helplessly, the heretical Gryffindors corrupt the mind of students and adults alike, leading them down a dark and ill-advised path of ruin!_

_As virtuous defenders of Hogwarts and wizardkind, we cannot allow this! It is the duty of every pure-blood, regardless of gender, House or standing to fight this vile invasion! We will not be defeated! Our faith in our blood remains strong! The Mudblood and Muggle-lover are insidious creatures, and will not rest in their goal to pervert the natural order! _

_To pursue this noble goal, we hereby deliver this message to the foul Gryffindors and their sycophants: Do not try to stop us. You cannot halt the force of this whirlwind! Join us, and reap the rewards of faithful service! Block our way, and be utterly destroyed._

_The legacy of Slytherin still breathes!_

The Sons of Enigma' 

Harry cast aside the note, spitting one word: "Malfoy."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. "It sure sounds like him. Don't worry about Cho, I've sent Dean and Neville to keep an eye on her. Merlin's beard, what's he trying to pull?"

"Propaganda," Hermione answered, taking a look at the declaration. "They're trying to do two things. First, scare us. Secondly, maybe get some support. It might not be Malfoy, though; he isn't usually one for co-operation. These guys seem desperate to get help."

"The Sons of Enigma," Ron intoned. "Weird name."

Hermione chuckled despite herself. "Whenever a Dark Lord rises, Ron, their supporters always have unusual names. Grindewald had the Night Ravens. In the 8th century, Melekh had the Chosen of Tzeentch. Kel'Thuzad had the Cult of the Damned. Some guys had names I can't even pronounce."

"So," Harry asked, scratching his head, "are these guys Voldemort supporters?"

Ron flinched at the name, much to Hermione's annoyance. "Maybe. Here's a clue. What's another way of saying enigma?"

"Oh, like another word for it?" Ron said, brow furrowed in thought. "How about puzzle?"

"Problem? Code?" guessed Harry.

Hermione shook her head. Ron snapped his fingers as he found the solution. "I get it! Riddle."

"Yes, Riddle," Hermione replied. "It might be Malfoy, it might not. But Voldemort has some fans in Hogwarts, nonetheless."

_It has to be Malfoy,_ Harry thought, remembering their confrontation in the hall after the Welcoming Feast. His anger grew, realizing that Malfoy, or whoever it was, was trying to use Cho to get to him. _Enough is enough! I'm not going to let anyone hurt her, even if I have to tear apart Slytherin House with my bare hands._

Harry stood up, fire in his eyes and the energies of Gryffindor charging in his soul. "Ron, Hermione, spread the word. Tomorrow night, Dumbledore's Army is returning. Inside the Room of Requirement, as always."

"Alright!" Ron whooped.

"We'll get on it, Harry," Hermione replied, beaming with pride. "Katie can help us contact the other Houses."

"Good," Harry said, a hint of cold steel in his voice. "If these guys want a fight, then the D.A. will give them one. Right after supper tomorrow, okay?"

Ron and Hermione nodded. "Sure thing, mate," Ron said. "Now, why don't you go visit Cho, she could use the company."

Harry took Ron's words to heart, and was out the portrait hole, the note in hand. Several minutes later, he arrived at the Hospital Wing, Dean and Neville sitting by the door, a deck of Exploding Snap at their feet. Neville waved him over with a cheeky grin. "Wotcher, Harry," he said, placing down a card. "Cho's doing fine, we've been watching over the place. We haven't let an ant pass!"

"Wotcher, Neville," Harry replied, even as Neville won another hand. "Is Madam Pomfrey in there?"

Dean shook his head. "She left a couple minutes ago, something about getting Professor Snape. It had something to do with the blonde girl." He was fairly cheerful, so it was clear he didn't know about Harry and Ginny.

"Blaise?"

"Yes, that's the one," Dean stated, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently, she had ligature marks on her wrists, besides the bruises on her face."

"Ligature marks?" Neville asked curiously.

"Haven't you two watched any Muggle cop shows? Read any Sherlock Holmes?" Dean inquired. When only silence greeted him, he elaborated. "Ligature marks occur when the blood flow is cut off by a rope or piece of cord, it digs into the skin and cuts off circulation, leaving these marks."

"So she was tied up? Why?"

"Elementary, my dear Neville. She was bound, in nothing but lingerie, with bruises on her face. Someone was trying to get some, and she was an unwilling candidate."

Harry looked at Dean with horror. "You mean she was _raped?_"

"Possibly," replied Dean, shaking his head in disgust. "Lowest thing a guy can do, next to child abuse and slavery."

Neville spat on the ground to show his contempt. "If I was there, the son of a bitch wouldn't be breathing," he hissed. "Rape, Harry! That's the kind of things that Death Eaters do! Then there's that ambush on Cho, those filthy scum. Attacking a poor girl from behind! Of all the lousy, rotten, Slytherin things to do..."

Harry smiled despite himself. Neville had an unflinching sense of honour and morals, and would fight to the death to protect his friends. "Thanks, guys. Keep an eye out, will you?"

"Certainly, Harry," Neville said. "Come on, Thomas, that's four in a row. Pay up."

"Damn! Deck must be rigged or something..."

Silently, Harry opened the door, his movements quiet so as not to disturb sleeping patients. Within the crisp, clean Hospital Wing, only two beds were occupied, one by Cho, her ribs and ankle bound with fresh bandages and smeared with various healing serums. The other contained Blaise, dressed in a soft white gown, muttering to herself, her Invisibility Cloak draped in a metal basin. A quick glance showed that Dean's theory was correct. Ligature marks were on her wrists, and he could see where the skin had been broken, covered in Madame Pomfrey's healing serum. Harry felt sick, just looking at what had been done to the poor girl.

"Harry?" Cho sat up in bed, wincing slightly, putting a hand to her chest. Immediately, Harry was at her side, gently helping her lie back down. "What are you doing here?"

The young Gryffindor put a finger to her lips. "Don't try to move, my love. I just came to see how you were doing. How bad is the injury?"

Cho scoffed at it. "It'll be fine. Madame Pomfrey says the ankle will be healed by morning, the rib in a day more. Her potions have done most of the work, now I just need some time," she whispered softly, her raven-black hair splayed along the pillow. She turned to the sleeping form of Blaise. "She helped me out back there. He was ready to kill me, then she hexed him off his feet."

"Oh, Cho, I'll never let it happen again," Harry promised, holding her close, taking care not to squeeze her injuries. "I should have been there."

"It's alright, my love," Cho replied, giving him a soft kiss. "Don't blame yourself, you didn't know. It's alright, I won't be caught like that again."

Harry smiled slightly. "I've decided to start the D.A. up again. We think it might be Malfoy who attacked you, or his cronies at least, so I'm reforming it again. Hopefully, most of the old crowd will be there, maybe some new people too. What about Marietta?"

Cho frowned. "Mary and I aren't really talking, and she can't stand you," she sighed. "If only she'd listen to me, she'd see that you're not a bad person."

Before Harry could respond, Blaise began to stir on the next bed. The willowy Slytherin slowly sat up, a hand to her forehead. "Must have puked my guts out back-Potter? What are you doing here?"

"We brought you in, remember?" Harry asked, looking at her with concern. "What happened to you?"

Blaise gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Some guy in black robes happened to me."

Cho's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Guys in black robes," she inquired, "with black masks, and some kind of altering spell on their eyes?"

"Yes, just like that," Blaise said, giving Cho a surprised look. "How did you know?"

Faced with a hard stare, Harry demanded, "Cho and Hermione were attacked by a bunch of them tonight. Care to explain who they are?"

"I don't know, Potter," Blaise replied. "However, if they were after your girlfriend, they're probably Slytherins." She shuddered. "I'd never thought they'd actually go through it..."

Feeling the cold glares of Harry and Cho, Blaise explained. "Listen. For a while now, Malfoy's been planning to go after you two. He's got most of Slytherin House on his side, and their plan was to kidnap you," she said, pointing at Cho. "Tonight, some bastard in a black cloak stunned me, tied me up, and almost violated me. I don't know how I stopped him, really, but that's not important. If it is Malfoy, then he's going beyond just insults and Quidditch rivalries. He'll stop at nothing to bring you down, Potter. I'd watch my back if I was you."

"If you knew about this, Blaise, why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry barked angrily. "Were you planning on just letting them take Cho?"

"Please, Harry, calm down," Cho whispered, putting a hand to his shoulder. Immediately, Harry relaxed, taking a seat beside her.

Blaise ignored Harry's accusation, continuing her tale. "First of all, I didn't know when or how they were going to do it. Second, you wouldn't have believed me if I told you. Third, if I told the teachers, they wouldn't have believed me either, and Malfoy would realize that I betrayed him. Four, even if the teachers believed me, any accusation of that size would have to go through the Board of Governors, all of whom are in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I don't want the Death Eaters to visit my door. And besides, I haven't been doing nothing. Since I heard of the plan, I've been spreading confusion all throughout the House, pranks, sabotage and the like."

Cho snapped her fingers. "It was you!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger. "You were the one who helped us against Malfoy the first night back. With your Invisibility Cloak, you could have snuck up on them easily, and as far as know, only you and Harry have Cloaks."

"Bravo, Chang," Blaise yawned. "A perfect textbook answer. Yes, I took out Malfoy and his goons, I bought the Cloak during my third year, helps me find out what I need to know. Now, why don't you two head on back to bed, and leave me the hell alone."

"One last question," Cho asked, the glimmer of a theory sparkling in her mind. "How did you break free from your attacker, without a wand?"

"Yes, I believe that is a question that we'd all like to have answered."

Harry whirled around, seeing a pair of twinkling blue eyes emerge from the doorway. "Dumbledore!" he hissed, as the wizened sage calmly entered the Hospital Wing. "You've got a lot to answe-"

The words caught in his throat, seeing Dumbledore's condition. The Headmaster looked like he had aged twenty years since Harry last him. Dumbledore walked with a shuffling gait, the normal spring in his step disappeared. All the mirth and merriment in the old man had vanished, replaced with a cold certainty. "Tell us what happened, Ms. Zabini."

Blaise, faced with Dumbledore's forcefully calm demeanour, related the tale, how the intruder had stunned her, then tried to rape her. "...and just as he was about to take off the last of my clothes, something happened. As I became angrier and angrier, this...power of some kind sparked, and the bastard was blown into the wall. I didn't get a chance to ID him, I just grabbed the Cloak and ran."

Harry gasped in shock as she described the familiar symptoms. "And then it settled down, like a beast inside you?"

"Yeah, that's right," Blaise said, staring at Harry and Cho in amazement. "Do you guys know everything about me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "They have had similar experiences as well, Ms. Zabini. It appears that we've found the Champion of Slytherin at last."

"What?" Harry choked.

"Huh?" Blaise asked quizzically.

"Yes, Ms. Zabini, the Champion of Slytherin, living descendant of the great Slytherin himself, and if I'm any judge, very unlike him, considering your background. The Champion of Slytherin, Muggle-born, most ironic," Dumbledore declared, stroking his beard.

Harry could only gap in amazement, as Dumbledore explained the prophecy to Blaise. Blaise, the Champion of Slytherin, and a _muggle-born!_ He hadn't thought there were any non-purebloods in Slytherin House, much less the Champion of Slytherin as one. But a nagging doubt lingered in his mind. "But Professor," he interrupted, "how can Blaise be Slytherin's descendant, when Riddle is? Is Voldemort the Champion of Slytherin as well?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry inquistiveness. "A good point, Harry, but Tom is not the Champion of Slytherin. Blaise is. Somehow, Slytherin's bloodline has split in two, Riddle on one side, Blaise on the other. Tom commands the use of Parseltongue, while Blaise has the energies of Slytherin locked within, and it appears that some of that energy has already begun to manifest itself."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Actually, it does," Cho whispered, her voice soothing the Champion of Gryffindor. "I learned about this in Muggle Studies, of all places. It's all about genetics, really. Assuming that Slytherin had multiple children, or that his family tree split later on, his bloodline must have split too. Certain abilities were inherit to one side or another. The split most likely happened early on, otherwise we would have seen some sign of Slytherin's energies in You-Know-Who before." She turned to Blaise, who was staring at them with undisguised disbelief. "You're not a Parseltongue, right?"

Blaise shook her head, dumbfounded. "No. The Dark Lord is _my cousin?_"

"Like I said, the genetic split probably happened early on. You're an extremely distant relation at best," Cho answered.

Harry smiled to himself. _Nice work, Cho. _"So, that just leaves Hufflepuff, I guess?"

With an angry shout, Blaise sprung up out of bed, facing her three guests with revulsion. "You're actually buying into this fairy tale, Potter?" she snarled, eyes wild and confused. "Slytherin died a thousand years ago, any magic he had must be used up by now. Besides, even if his magic passed to our generation, it wouldn't be to some Muggle-born like me, he wanted to kill them all, as I remember! Whatever this condition is, I'm sure I can get help for it. And don't you spread around the fact that I'm Muggle-born, you hear? If the other Slytherins find out that my dad was just some Muggle, I won't last too long."

"You don't believe us?" Dumbledore asked, a touch of humour in his voice.

"Damn right, old man," retorted Blaise. "Do you know what it's like, being Muggle-born and living in Slytherin House? Every move has to be guarded, in case someone should discover who I am. My mother was a Slytherin, my father was a Muggle businessman, and they taught me how to survive. Your fairy tale might impress first-years, Dumbledore, but I don't give a damn about the cock and bull you've given me. Now get out."

Harry snorted at her. "Are you really that selfish?" he demanded, seeing Blaise with her arms across her chest. "Fine then. We're fighting to protect the Wizarding world, and you're a Champion. Get used to it." With that, he stormed out, Cho's protestations falling on deaf ears, the young man consumed with frustration.

Dumbledore caught up with him several seconds later. "Harry, whatever I have done, I have done for your own benefit-"

"Don't give me that," Harry snapped. "Cho was almost killed tonight, Dumbledore, by _students_, not Death Eaters. I want you make sure she stays safe. You've been asleep at the wheel too many times now, and if Cho suffers because of your failures, I'm going to make you pay. Is the Ministry so important that you can't protect your students now?"

"Harry, I was working on a series of-"

A quick wave of a hand dismissed his calm protests. Harry turned to face his former mentor, anger enveloping him. "I'm sick of being your pet tiger, Dumbledore, caged and penned and tormented until it's time to loose me on your enemies. Dumbledore's Army is coming back, but with a new name. We were _never_ your army, and if you won't stand up for the students, then I will."

As Harry walked away, Cho and Blaise settled themselves in for a well deserved rest, the willowy beautiful Slytherin a cauldron of emotions and doubt. _It's not possible, is it?_ She thought, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. _Even if I am, what can I do?_ Resolving to solve the situation in the morning, she closed her eyes, praying the nightmares would not come...

* * *

Inside Blaise's dormitory, the black-clad figure groaned in pain, regaining consciousness. His ever-changing eyes looked around, realizing where he was, and what he happened. Blaise was gone. Checking the time, he swore, then made his way through the Slytherin Common Room, looking over his shoulder as he went, then into the sixth-year boys dormitory. Inside, four other figures waited, dressed identically. 

"How was she?" one of them asked, his voice mocking.

"Shut up, Nott," the newest arrival retorted, ripping off the mask angrily. A "_Finite Incantium!_" removed the camouflage charms, and grey eyes blazed hatred at the other figures. "Remove the disguises. Now."

The other figures took off their masks and cloaks, revealing them to be Slytherins. One of them spat on the ground. "Come on, Draco, how did she taste?" he asked, licking his lips. "Strawberries or mint?"

"Piss off, Crabbe," Draco Malfoy said, tossing his cloak to the ground. In front of him, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Warren stood, eagerly awaiting his tale. "The bitch got the jump on me. Somehow, she knocked me out, her hands bound, without a wand." He looked at the others, his eyes daring them to laugh. "What about our allies? Have they managed to capture Chang?"

Nott shook his head. "She took them out. A dozen guys, she took out most of them, forced the others to flee. Good thing for us, she didn't ID any of them."

Screaming in rage, Malfoy threw a heavy vase against the wall, shattering it instantly. His face red, he whirled on his cronies. "Damn them! Can't those _fucking_ Ravenclaws do anything right?" The Slytherins stayed silent, anxious to avoid his wrath. Malfoy began to massage his aching temple. _Damn them! First that whore Zabini stuns me, then this operation fails! Chang will be on her guard now, we'll never get another shot. Thankfully, we can destroy all the evidence, and even if that old fool Dumbledore suspects us, our scapegoats can divert his attention. _

"Has our main contact escaped?" he asked, flexing his wrists.

"Yes, Draco!" Warren replied. Warren was a timid fourth-year, but filled with an eagerness to please Malfoy, something the spoiled Slytherin could manipulate to his advantage. "Chang hit him in the stones, but he's alright, and eager to pay the Asian whore back. We can always try again, Draco!"

Malfoy's fist lashed out, catching Warren in the jaw. As the young goon crumpled, Malfoy faced the others, his breath coming out in furious gasps. "Do any of you dumbfucks have anything else to say?" There was silence. "Good. Ditch the clothes, and destroy anything that could be traced to us, just like we discussed."

_Damn_, Malfoy thought, tossing the robes in the fireplace, then falling back onto his bed. _She looked beautiful there, the whore_, he said to himself, envisioning her lithe body stretched out before him, her beautiful blue eyes filled with desire, full breasts in his hands, long legs wrapped around him, the feel of soft red lips, her voice soft and seductive as she whispered, "Take me, Draco." It was a fantasy, but a very exciting one, and Malfoy cursed himself for not claiming her when he had the chance, when the bitch was helpless, bound and gagged before him, her screams muffled into pitiful mews of despair, eyes large with fear..._I'll get her next time. Next time, she won't have a chance to stun me, however she did it_._ The Sons of Enigma will be victorious!_


	13. Sowing the Breeze

**Chapter 13: Sowing the Breeze**

Harry sighed contentedly, entering the Room of Requirement once more, various training equipment and textbooks materializing before him. Stone blocks and dummies to smash with offensive spells, cushions and pillows to break falls, duelling rings to practice on…all the equipment and supplies they needed to train an army. An army of students. _Last year, we were here to teach ourselves how to duel. This year, maybe we can do more_, Harry thought, arranging some of the room as he desired.

Cho entered, hair done up in a ponytail, her sprained ankle now completely healed. "Everything ready?" she asked, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Yep," Harry replied, returning the kiss. "A bunch of people already told me they'd be here, most of the old crowd really. What about the Ravenclaws, any idea if they'll show up?"

The Ravenclaw beauty shook her head. "Michael's been stirring up trouble all day, convincing most of the House that you're just some attention-seeking Gryffindor. He's been throwing a lot of weight around, many people listen to him just because he's Head Boy," she answered, sighing in pity. "A few have decided to come, Luna Lovegood for example. She fought in the Department of Mysteries, right?"

Harry nodded. "Good," Cho said. "She'll be a great help. I was awful to her last year, and I want to make up for it."

As the clock struck eight, the first recruits entered the Room of Requirement, many of them former members. There was Dean and Seamus, entering alongside Lavender and Parvati. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville entered next, Ginny averting her eyes from Harry, while Hermione greeted Cho with an open hug. Tiffany Maurer, the Longshot, came in next, flashing Harry a nervous smile. The Creevy brothers joined, chuckling amongst themselves. Gryffindors, both new students and experienced prefects, walked in, eager to defend their House. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs entered, but not at the numbers Harry had wished for.

Luna Lovegood strode up to Harry, radish earrings hanging from her ears. "Hello, Harry," she greeted him in a dreamy voice. "Are we off to war again?"

"Not if I can help it, Luna," Harry said. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble after what happened."

She smiled. "Nope, not at all. Dad was proud of me, believe it or not. A little shocked at first, but still proud."

Beside her, Neville smiled. "Same thing with Gran. She said I had acted like a real Longbottom for once," he declared gleefully. "About time she got off my back about that."

"Neville!" Luna shrieked, throwing her arms around him. "How are you?"

Neville blushed like the sunrise as they made contact. "Uh…pretty good, Lu-Luna," he stammered. "Find any Crumpled-horned Snorkacks during the summer?"

Luna giggled. "Nope, but thanks for asking."

"Hey, mate," Ron said, casting a glance over the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. "Not too many of them, huh?"

"I'm afraid not," Cho said, shaking her head in regret. "I thought we had something here, something that all Houses could be a part of, except for Slytherin of course. I'll try to convince some of them tomorrow, this isn't right."

"Stupid gits. No offence," Ron said, apologizing to Cho and Luna.

Cho giggled slightly. "None taken, Ron. Though, as Ravenclaws, I don't think you could classify them as stupid. Short-sighted maybe." She turned her head towards the door. "What the-"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" came their shout, the column of Hufflepuffs walking in ranks into the Room of Requirement. At their head marched Zacharias Smith and Susan Bones, followed by Hannah Abbott with the banner of Hufflepuff, then a mass of determined Hufflepuffs, yellow robes shining in the firelight, drowning out the blue of the Ravenclaws and matching the Gryffindor red. Zacharias halted the column in front of Harry, throwing a sloppy salute. "Hello, Potter. Is this a formal party or is anyone invited?"

Harry smiled. "Hello, Smith. What's all this?"

Susan Bones grinned from ear to ear. "You didn't think that we'd let Gryffindor get all the glory? We've brought a whole bunch of new recruits with us, and they're ready to eat raw lion if it means taking Slytherin down a notch."

Zach nodded, casting a glance over the Hufflepuffs. "This is our fight, Potter, as much as it is yours. You-Know-Who won't spare any of us, regardless of House, and the Slytherins will probably help him."

"They may have already started," Cho interjected. "You heard about what happened last night?"

Smith spat on the ground to show his contempt. "Dumbledore must be blind to not see that it's Malfoy. Hufflepuff stands with you, Potter. Let's take these Slytherin scum down."

"Thanks, guys," Harry replied, directing them over to by a wall to leave space in the centre of the room. "Zach, Susan, you'll be in charge of the Hufflepuff contingent. Alright?"

"What do you know? Smith is worthwhile after all," Ron muttered to Harry.

Zach turned on him. "I see that Weasley is still here, Potter. Keep him under control, will you?" he asked with a slight smirk.

Ron advanced forward menacingly. "I'd keep your opinions to yourself, Smith."

"Or what, Weasley?" Smith growled, flexing his fingers. "You'll send your sister after me?"

Before the two clashed, Hermione threw herself between them, hands raised to ward them off. "Enough of this, both of you. Zach," she snapped, pointing at the Hufflepuff Seeker, "stop tormenting him. We have better things to do than fight with each other!"

Seeing the look in her eyes, Smith decided not to argue, and returned over to the Hufflepuffs. Harry stood in front of the entire group, clearing his throat to grab their attention. "First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for coming here tonight. Last year, Dumbledore's Army was designed to teach students how to defend themselves. Thankfully, Umbridge is gone, so this year we'll be concentrating more on group tactics and organization. While I don't intend to use you to attack Voldemort, should he attack, we'll be trained and organized enough to defeat him." _I hope_.

"As such, we're going to be a bit more organized this year. The D.A. will be divided up into three groups, along House lines. Ron, 'Mione, you'll be in charge of the Gryffindors. Cho, Luna, take the Ravenclaws. Zach, Susan, you'll command the Hufflepuffs, all six of you will be my lieutenants. You'll be in charge of recruiting, and command your respective groups in combat." He looked at some of the younger students, a couple quite nervous with this situation. "If you find yourself in trouble, just look to these six, they're experienced duellists. Any questions?"

A timid Hufflepuff third-year raised a hand. "How can we fight the Death Eaters though? They're too powerful, they'd eat us for breakfast!"

Harry shook his head. He was afraid of this. "Not necessarily. The Death Eaters may be scary, but they can be beaten. It's been done."

One of the few Ravenclaws interjected, "You mean you've fought Death Eaters before?"

"Yes, that's right. Not just me, but other Hogwarts students have stood their ground against them, and _won_," Harry declared, his gaze focusing on his friends for a moment. "The Death Eaters rely on fear as their main weapon. If you control your fear, you've already gained a major advantage over them."

When only silenced greeted him, Harry continued. "Don't worry, both here, and in Defence Against the Darks Arts, you're going to learn how to fight them. First, let's practice this curse," he said, moving over to one of the dummies. "This is a little something I picked up over the summer. Watch." He pointed his wand at the dummy, fully aware of the questioning stares of the other students. "_Fumbus!_"

The jinx hit the dummy's chest, the magic working its way to the hands. Plastic and composites squealed and twisted, and the dummy's fingers reverted to thumbs, much to the shock of the D.A. Harry turned back to them, his eyes hard and focused. "The Incapacitation Jinx is an easy way for you to stop an opponent without causing much damage. Once this spell comes into effect, an enemy will find it very difficult to use a wand against you, or any other kind of weapon. Everyone, grab a partner, and practice on the dummies. The incantation is _Fumbus_."

Encouraged by Harry's demonstration, the D.A. members threw themselves at their spell practice, their confidence returning as they used the jinx. By the end of the session, most of the assembled students had mastered the spell, with the rest close to success. Before they left, Harry addressed them once again, a smile of pride on his lips. "Well done, all of you. However, it will get tougher as time goes on. Since Professor Stormfury will be teaching us most of these spells, we'll be showing you what tactics to use when fighting Death Eaters and Slytherins. Any ideas?"

For a few moments, the room was silent, then Neville raised his hand. "Strike quickly. If you can catch them off-guard, you might be able to beat them."

"Improvise," Luna added. "They may not be expecting a particular spell, so use a variety of curses against them."

"Here's a good idea, fight with a partner," Hermione said, twirling her wand. "With a partner, you can warn each other, cover each other. A Death Eater may be confident battling one opponent, but if you have help, he may think twice. If he doesn't, you'll be able to beat him that much easier."

"What about those guys in black cloaks?" Hannah asked timidly. "The ones that attacked last night?"

"Those are the Sons of Enigma," Cho answered. "We think they might be supporters of Vol-Voldemort, from inside the school. I don't think we'll be seeing them again, though."

"Huh?" Harry asked, shocked both that Cho had said Voldemort's name, and dismissed her attackers so easily. "What makes you say that?"

"Simple, Harry. The school knows about these guys now, and Dumbledore will be keeping an eye out in case they attack again. Thanks to their disguises, everyone will recognize them as Voldemort supporters, and if we manage to capture one, they're finished. The teachers will just extract the information from that one person, and their entire group will collapse. They have a lot to answer for, and they won't risk getting caught. No, if we fight them again, they'll be in their Hogwarts uniforms, just like any other student."

Harry was amazed by Cho's shrewdness. "Hidden in plain sight, something like that?"

"Yes, exactly like that," Cho replied. "But, whatever they plan, we'll be ready."

A mighty cheer came up from the D.A. members, and Harry felt his heart swell with pride. _Thanks, Cho_. With some time and training, these students would no doubt prove their worth in battle, he only prayed they wouldn't have to.

"We need a new name," Hermione interrupted, all eyes turning to her. "We're not just a rag-tag bunch of students trying to learn some spells, we're more than that. We've undergone a rebirth of sorts, and many of us have even fought against Voldem-Ron! Stop flinching!" she barked at the redheaded boy. "We're not the D.A. anymore."

Zacherais wrinkled his nose. "How about Potter's Army?"

"Nah, too unoriginal, no offence mate," Ron objected, looking at Harry. "Maybe the Hogwarts Student Defence Force?"

"Too long," Hermione replied.

Suddenly, it came to Harry like a bolt out of the blue. "I know," he whispered, before raising his voice loud and brazen. "The Army of the Marauders. My dad and his friends were the original Marauders, and they caused all kinds of havoc against the Slytherins. I don't think there's a better way to honour their memories than to fight the people who killed them." A solitary tear welled up in the corner of his eyes.

"The Army of the Marauders," Cho repeated, holding Harry's hand to comfort him. "I like it."

Nods of affirmation were given, and Ron raised his fist in defiance. "_FOR THE MARAUDERS!_" he bellowed.

"_FOR THE MARAUDERS!_" they replied, raising fists and wands and banners skywards. Harry smiled even as the tears flowed. _Hope you like it, Sirius_.

* * *

As the meeting broke up, Harry and Cho wandered up to the Astronomy Tower, gazing at the beauty of the stars on a cloudless night. Harry turned to her, wrapping his polo sweater around her curved frame. "Thanks for helping out today." 

Cho smiled, the cold breeze running through her hair, causing it to stream out behind her like a pennant. "No, that was no problem," she replied, giving him a quick kiss. "I told you at the beginning that I'd be here to help, and I am."

Harry felt her arms go round his shoulders. "Cho, do you ever think that maybe, one day, when this war is over, we can be together?"

"Of course, silly!" she joked. "Anything is possible. I don't plan on dying or marrying Zhang, so what else is there?"

They kissed for a moment, cuddling up against each other. Harry caught the scent of lilacs in her hair. "Cho, would you like to stay with me tonight?"

Cho shook her head, blushing furiously. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I would love to stay with you, but there's a big N.E.W.T. review test tomorrow, and I need to study some more. Sorry," she pouted, somewhat disappointed with herself. "I'll try to make it up for you, okay?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that's okay," he declared, feeling slightly disappointed but understanding. "Anyway, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Cho stood up to leave, not before kissing him roughly. "I'll make up for it," she whispered, then left, cloak wrapped tightly around her.

With a sigh, Harry slumped down. _We've both been pushed hard, thanks to school and Voldemort and all. Maybe I should take her out to dinner one night or something_. Groaning, he raised himself off the floor…

…and drew his wand, pointing it straight at Blaise Zabini's throat.

The willowy Slytherin grinned, perfectly calm despite her perilous position. "Jeez, Potter, there's no sneaking up on you. Mind putting the wand down?"

Slowly, Harry lowered his wand, his face tense with frustration. "Damn it, Blaise, don't sneak up on me like that!" he snapped, noticing the Invisibility Cloak draped by her feet. "What are you doing here?"

Blaise giggled slightly. "Such hostility, Potter. I just came to thank you for helping me out last night. That was a bad situation back there, and I'm glad you were there. Thanks."

"No, I should be thanking you for saving Cho," Harry replied. "And apologizing for blowing up at you in the Hospital Wing."

Her bright blue eyes caught the misery on his face. "You blame yourself for not being there, I assume. You shouldn't," she declared, her voice soft. "You Gryffindors are far too noble for your own good sometimes. From what I've seen, your girlfriend can take care of herself."

"And what about you, Blaise?" Harry asked, his sharp green eyes meeting hers. "You were almost raped last night, and Dumbledore didn't do a damn thing. Who will protect the students if not me?"

"Don't worry about me, Potter, I'm a big girl. And when I catch that slimy bastard, he's going to have a _really_ high voice from now on."

Harry laughed, and Blaise joined in, their hearty laughter echoing out into the night. After a moment, Blaise faced Harry, her expression serious again. "I've done some thinking about the prophecy, and while I still think it's total bull, maybe I should prepare, in case isn't not. When I woke up this morning, Professor Stormfury was there, said he'd give me some lessons on swordsmanship and stuff," Blaise said, her flowing blond hair giving her an ethereal look. "Do you know anything more about it?"

"No," Harry responded, shaking his head. "Just that we are the descendants of the Founders, and that we have some of their powers. That's pretty much it. Listen, Blaise, if you are the Champion of Slytherin, then we should be working together instead of fighting with each other."

Blaise's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're willing to forgive a Slytherin for what she has done?"

"Last year, I was a total git, and I ended up driving away all my friends. It's not going to happen again. So, friends then?"

The Champion of Slytherin smiled. "You know, Potter, I'm starting to understand what Cho and the Weaslette see in you," she whispered in his ear, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "You're a really sweet guy, Harry, but I would never come in between what you and Cho have. Yes, friends, but nothing more." With that, she left, eyes shining with mischief.

Harry watched her go, a hand to where she had kissed him. "Mental."

* * *

"The snowflake, children, is a marvellous thing," Stormfury declared, a single example on the tip of his finger. "In many ways, it is a microcosm for this war. How?" 

Three months had passed since the confrontation with the Sons of Enigma, and as the first snows fell, Stormfury took the Defence Against the Dark Arts class outside to mediate underneath the bare branches of the cherry tree. Dressed in kimonos coloured to denote their Houses, the students mediated, letting the troubles of the world pass them by.

Within the first few weeks of school, Stormfury had quickly become one of the favourites amongst the staff. Besides the intense spell-work and duelling sessions, the Shadow Hunter was also something of a philosopher, giving lectures on the sanctity of life and why people turn to the Dark Arts. In the first few classes, the group were taught how to mediate, much to the dismay of several students. Afterwards, the Patronus Charm was the main focus, and many students, including Ron and Zach, were conjuring corporeal Patronus' by the end. Only Malfoy and his goons had anything bad to say about the Shadow Hunter and his methods. Malfoy had called meditation, 'worthless kung-fu shit,' the first time they tried it, earning him a loss of twenty points from Slytherin, and a lengthy detention polishing an antique suit of samurai armour, his knuckles bleeding by the end.

Elsewhere around the school, the Army of the Marauders continued to practice within the Room of Requirement, learning tactics for defeating several opponents, and developing a series of patrols to ensure that non-Slytherin students were not threatened in the halls. A few skirmishes between Army of the Marauder volunteers and the Slytherins had occurred, the Marauders coming out on top each time. Fortunately, these battles were becoming less and less frequent as time went on, and thanks to Cho's efforts at diplomacy, more and more of the Ravenclaws were joining, setting aside old feuds to help defend themselves.

Blaise had changed too. The willowy Slytherin's icy demeanour had thawed considerably, and she was more open and cheerful than usual. Harry was drawn to her in some ways, her secrecy, her mysteriousness, though they kept their relationship at friends. Both Harry and Cho were happy with each other, and spent many hours talking and snogging in private, enjoying each other's company and emotions. The two lovers could be seen practicing Quidditch together, as well as mock duels. Meanwhile, Blaise trained with Stormfury after hours, learning the techniques and skills the other two Champions had acquired during the summer. Bags could be seen under her eyes, but she was happy nonetheless.

Harry continued his work with Avalon, his mental defences improving greatly under her tutelage. Every lesson under the Spirit Walker's guidance strengthened Harry's skills at Occlumency, bringing him that much closer to finally shutting down the mental link between him and Voldemort. Each night, he practiced what he had learned, bringing dreamless sleep, untainted by nightmares of death and sorrow. There was little news of Voldemort, but this only increased Harry's insecurity, that somehow this was the calm before the storm…

"The snowflake is utterly unique, alone in its composition," Stormfury answered, his deep blue eyes observing every student. "Yet, at the same time, it is a perfect shape, each side in equal proportion with the others. Unique, yet perfect. What can this tell us about life?"

Cho answered, her curved frame in a Ravenclaw kimono. "There is more than one way to achieve success."

"Five points to Ravenclaw, Ms. Chang. Yes, that is what can be seen in the snowflake. Look around you, in this class, in this school, we have peoples of all different backgrounds and ethnicities and faiths here, working together for a greater good. Pureblood and Muggle-born, black and white, the unity between peoples that this school has forged is a great thing, something worth fighting for. We may be different, but each of us has the capacity to achieve great things."

Stormfury had gotten the attention of the entire class, and they sat rapt with anticipation. "The Death Eaters, however, believe that there is only one way to life, their way. Remember that the Death Eaters are not practicing a new concept, throughout history, every civilization has had its share of hatemongers and fanatics. And above all else, they fear change. Fear the future. Fear everyone and everything that is not them."

He caught another snowflake, watching as it rested in his hand for a moment before disappearing. "For next week, I want you to prepare a report on a subversive Muggle group, for example the Nazis, al-Qaeda, any group which had spread hate and intolerance. Tell me who they are, what they want, and how they wish to achieve their goals. Finally, compare them to the Death Eaters."

Malfoy snorted. "You actually expect us to research a bunch of filthy Muggles?" he asked jokily. "Who cares about them?"

Stormfury exploded at the spoiled Slytherin. "I have met many unsavoury individuals in my time, Mr. Malfoy, but none so vile as you! Perhaps I should tell you of the great Muggle atrocities. The Holocaust. 9/11. The Vietnam War. Bosnia. Rwanda. Take a look at those, Mr. Malfoy, and compare them to what your father has done. Perhaps you'll get an great appreciation of tolerance towards others."

Malfoy's jaw dropped and his face visibly paled, while he struggled to regain his voice, to form a biting response. With a quick glance, the entire Slytherin portion of the class got up and rushed away, encircling Malfoy as if to shield him from a curse. The other students looked at Stormfury will a mixture of shock and glee. No teacher had ever erupted against a student like that before, much less denounced the student's father as a Death Eater. By now, the Shadow Hunter had composed himself, and took a sip of green tea all the while observed the remaining students. "That concludes today's lesson, children. You may head back up to the castle now."

* * *

The last candidate screamed as he was branded with the Dark Mark, the smell of burning flesh like perfume to Voldemort, his clawed fingers over the man's wrist. Finally, he released him, the unfortunate soul kissing the hem of his robes. "Thank you, my Lord, thank you." 

"The pain you have suffered today has opened a door for you, my servant. You will never need to fear pain, or want, or despair, or hate, so long as you are loyal," Voldemort intoned, his blood-red eyes not even gazing at the man. "One pain to end all others. Be loyal, and you will not be broken." He passed his hand over the Mark, and the new Death Eater shook subconsciously. "Defy me, and the pain you shall experience will be your undoing."

"Yes, my Lord, yes," the man grovelled, moving over to his fellows. Fourteen new Death Eaters stood before the Dark Lord, each eager to give their lives and souls to him, recruited from pureblood communities around the world.

Voldemort smiled. "You are the faithful, and so long as your faith remains strong, you shall remain strong. You are bound to me, and my glory is your glory, my power is your power. Help me to help yourselves. You are the damned, and only through the destruction of my enemies shall you earn your salvation. Serve me well, and your dreams will be fulfilled. The enchantment of wealth, the taste of power, the glory of revenge, the caress of a woman's flesh, all these things will be open to you. Fail me, and your souls will be served to the Dementors, your flesh food for the vampires and harpies. Should you defy me, I will deliver your souls as an offering to the Ruinous Powers. Go, attend to your duties," he finished, watching the new recruits scurry to obey their master's bidding.

Asmodeus entered, bowing low. "My faithful lieutenant. What news?" Voldemort asked, grabbing the First Death Eater's chin, tilting his head up to face him.

"My Lord, one of your Seers has made contact with Lord Kharaidon," Asmodeus said, the normally calm Death Eater sounding frightened. "He demands that you see him now."

_Oh no_, Voldemort thought, pushing his lieutenant aside. "Where is he?"

"In the meeting hall, my Lord," Asmodeus replied, a trickle of black blood running down his forehead. Without waiting for him, Voldemort rushed down the halls, Death Eaters bowing as he went. _Damn that daemon-spawn! And with the Stones nowhere in sight!_

The Dark Lord made his way to the meeting hall, observing the works around him. His forces had grown strong over these past few months. His spies watched the goings-on in the Ministry, analysing every detail, dissecting every Ministry initiative and plan, searching for weaknesses that could be exploited, using both stealth and sex to achieve their missions. The Nagarythe murdered high-ranking officials and diplomats, spreading confusion and terror in the upper reaches of wizarding society. Meanwhile, the Inner Circle planned for the next big offensive, waiting for the signal of their master to strike. The bulk of his Death Eater army were merely grunts, ordinary Death Eaters, sent into battle often drugged into a frenzy. His non-human forces were also expanding, while Rodolphus Lestrange and a select group of Death Eaters studied the secrets of the _Liber Mortis_. _But not enough!_ Voldemort screamed in himself. _Without the Chaos Stones, all this is worthless. And Kharaidon knows it…_

Finally, Voldemort reached the meeting hall, composing himself as Kharaidon walked in. The twisted, demented body of Voldemort's seer had been inhabited and controlled by the daemon-lord, but its hold was beginning to wear off. The possessed seer moved with a twisted gait, as if it had forgotten how to walk, or didn't have the muscle and sinew to do it properly. The spine of his victim contorting into an impossible position, Kharaidon turned to face Voldemort. "_I trust you are well?_" it asked, its voice as deep as the abyss, the tone flaying at Voldemort's soul, gnawing away at his sanity.

"I am well, great lord," Voldemort replied, shivering despite himself. "How did you possess this form?"

The daemon-lord smiled in its possessed body, the teeth rotting away in its mouth as it spoke. Soulless black eyes bored through Voldemort's mind. "_Your seer made the mistake of going too far down the rabbit hole. My link to this world is only temporary, and weak, so we must be quick. Now, have you found the Stones?_"

For the briefest of moments, Voldemort considered taking out his wand and blasting the shell of a man into dust, then decided against it. Kharaidon was immensely powerful, and Voldemort had no desire to writhe in agony for eternity within the Realm of Chaos. "Not yet, great lord, but progress is being made."

"_Progress?_" the daemon-lord questioned. "_Progress? We expect results, mortal. Remember it was we who gave you your servant Asmodeus. It was we who spoke to you of the _Liber Mortis._ Remember our promise to you, mortal. And if you wish to obtain it, move quickly. **Our patience is wearing thin.**_"

Blood, black and thick, ran down Voldemort's forehead, a by-product of the daemon-lord's anger. He wiped it off with a shaky head. "Of course, great lord. I will see to it at once."

"_See that you do, mortal…_" With a hideous crack, the seer's possessed body crumpled, bone shattering and compressing in on itself. The man's skull imploded, spilling grey matter onto the rock floor, as the daemon-lord vacated the body and returned to its own realm.

Voldemort sat down, wiping off the last of the blood with a silk cloth, feeling weaker than he had ever felt since his rebirth. Cold rage flared in his heart. _Someone is going to pay for this._ "Asmodeus!" he hissed.

The First Death Eater entered several seconds later. "My Lord?"

"Have the final preparations been made?"

Asmodeus nodded. "Yes, my Lord. The raiding parties are in position. Shall I give the word?"

The Dark Lord began to calm down slightly. "Yes, Asmodeus. Launch the raids. I trust you planned them well?"

"Yes, my Lord. Most likely, we won't encounter any heavy resistance, save for one or two targets, and I have a backup plan for each."

Voldemort smiled. "Once again, Asmodeus, you have shown yourself to be the most loyal and valuable of my servants. Go, see to the preparations."

Before Asmodeus turned to leave, Voldemort's voice called back to him. "Asmodeus?"

"My Lord?"

Riddle's blood-red eyes gleamed with delight. "Kill them all."

* * *

The first weekend of December found the students of Hogwarts on a Hogsmeade weekend. Wearied from schoolwork and the growing inter-House clashes, the students were taking some time off to laugh, live and love. 

Inside Madam Rosmerta's coffee house, Harry and Cho sat within a cozy private booth, the gentle roar of the fireplace and the dull buzz of conversation adding to the festive atmosphere. Cho smiled as she took a sip of her coffee. "This is so much better than last year," she said, hiding a mischievous grin. "So, Harry, what are you getting me for Christmas?"

"That would ruin the surprise," Harry replied. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll like them. I've already taken the liberty of buying you some things."

"Really?" Cho's eyes lit up with delight. "Why, that's very considerate, Harry. Now, will you be ready for the Yule Ball?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure, actually. You've helped me with the dancing and all, but I don't think I'll be good enough."

"Don't worry, Harry, you'll be fine, you just need to relax. Even if you step on my feet one or twice, I don't care, just as long as you're having a good time."

Harry's demeanour brightened up considerable. "Thanks, Cho," he said, giving her a light kiss. Cho returned it, her rosy cheeks contrasting the thick Ravenclaw scarf around her neck. Finishing their coffees, the two lovers exited the shop, walking through the quiet town of Hogsmeade, the narrow streets packed with holiday shoppers, light snow dusting their cloaks. All throughout the village, students of all Houses roamed amongst the shops, gorging themselves on Honeydukes' sweets, buying presents for loved ones, exploring the borders of the village up to the Forbidden Forest. Blaise examined an exquisite green silk dress in a nearby clothing store, waving to Harry and Cho as they walked past. Ron and Hermione argued by themselves at Honeydukes. Dean and Ginny took a walk through the streets together, Ginny scowling in displeasure when she saw Cho. Even the Slytherins were cheerful.

"Woah, Harry Potter!" a small boy exclaimed, no more than eight years old, rushing up towards them. "Care I have your autograph?"

"Matthew, stop pestering the young man and his sweetheart!" a boisterous woman snapped, moving her son away. "Sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Potter. Young Matthew here gets a bit antsy when the Hogwarts folk come here."

"No problem," Harry replied. As the mother and her son turned away, Harry hissed, "Can't we get away from these people? One word, and the _Prophet_ will be breathing down our necks, and I had enough of that last year."

Cho frowned in displeasure. "Don't worry, Harry, we'll avoid them if we can."

Near the village square, a gaudy tent had been set up, the red and blue fabric having seen better days. Students and locals crowded around a short, costumed figure, a theatre mask over his face. Above his head, conjured in red letters, was the title, "The Amazing Wandering Wizards Troupe of Theatre!" The figure, obviously their manager or chorus, stood upon a conjured stool, his thin voice booming out to the throng.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Noble masters," he shouted in a voice that would have put a use-car salesman to shame, passing his gaze over a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls, "and sweet maidens!" The Hufflepuffs giggled. "The Amazing Wandering Wizards Troupe of Theatre has come to this fair village, and is performing within the local opera house for your amusement! Witness the feats of the greatest wizards and witches the world has ever known! Merlin. Morgana le Fay. Allanon. Telcis. Dumbledore. Even the wondrous Boy-who-Lived, Harry Potter! Absolutely free of charge! Right this way!"

"Want to go?" Harry asked, nudging Cho. "I mean, we haven't really done anything like this together. It might be fun."

"Sure," Cho replied with a beaming smile. "Nice to have a change of pace, anyway."

The vaunted Hogsmeade Opera House turned out to be a large warehouse, two stories tall, the exterior painted in blue and red. On the main floor, a large stage was erected, a group of costumed players making final preparations. Hogwarts students and village locals occupied the rows of seats that sloped towards the stage, chatting amongst themselves in anticipation. Quite a few of the students brought their dates along with them, and within a few minutes, the theatre was packed full. Harry and Cho managed to find seats near the front, squeezed in between Ron and Hermione. "This should be interesting!" Hermione squealed in excitement. "Ron, maybe even you will learn something today!"

"It's better than textbooks, I guess," Ron grumbled. "Blimey, funny looking get-ups they have here."

Cho turned to Harry, giggling as Ron and Hermione bickered. "They really are like a married couple, aren't they?"

Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah, sometimes. Would you like me to grab some snacks or something?"

"No, I'll do it," Cho replied, giving him a quick kiss. "Save me the seat, will you?"

As Cho left to get the snacks, the lights dimmed, shrouding the audience and stage in darkness, an uncomfortable silence descending. Red sparks and streamers flashed suddenly, the audience in awe as the sparks coalesced into images of fairies and pixies, fluttering over their heads in a blaze of light. More illusions appeared, dancing around the assembled spectators for several minutes more. The entire audience was entranced, save for Harry, who awaited Cho's return. _What could be taking her so long?_ he wondered, glancing around nervously.

Hermione gasped as the illusions melded together into one great ball of red, slowly heading towards the stage, before finally fading out of existence. As darkness settled once more, a voice could be heard from the stage, "Thank you for your attention, and your lives. _MORDESMORDE!_"

Grown men shrieked in horror and children buried their faces in their mother's breasts, as the Dark Mark barrelled through the crowds, the luminous green symbol like a bat out of hell, its presence terrifying all who witnessed it. Killing Curses followed, striking randomly into the panic, spreading death and chaos. Harry dropped to the floor, taking cover behind a row of chairs, listening to the screams and cries of the students and villagers, harsh and frightened. "Goddamn Death Eater _bastards!_" he howled. "_Revealous!_"

The Flare Charm rocketed into the air, illuminating the grisly scene. "_Stupefy! Reducto! Stupefy!_" Harry roared, firing a barrage of curse at the Death Eaters. Close to twenty of Voldemort's followers stood on stage, launching volleys of Killing Curses, theatre costumes and props strewn at their feet. The Amazing Wandering Wizards Troupe of Theatre was just a façade, and only the Death Eaters stood on that stage, chanting foul praises to their master.

_It's a trap!_ Harry's mind screamed. "Take cover!" he bellowed at the students and villagers. "Fight back!" Sending another Stunning Curse away, he crawled over to Ron and Hermione, who were urging people down and returning fire. "_Reducto!_" Another Death Eater was blown backwards. "Have you guys seen Cho?"

Ron shook his head, ducking as a Killing Curse blazed past. "Not since she left," he replied, taking out a black-robed figure. "We've got to get these students out of here!"

"You go ahead, Harry!" Hermione screamed over the din of battle. "We'll try to organize a retreat, and get everyone to safety. Hurry!"

Harry nodded, relieved that his friends were all right and fighting. "Watch yourselves," he said, threading his way through the chaos, keeping his head low.

A swarming mass of panicked civilians were rushing towards the next, biting and clawing at one another to get through, trampling people underfoot. Their retreat was covered by the Army of the Marauders, their training going to good use as they ducked behind benches and seats, firing off concentrated volleys of curses before taking cover again, looking out for one another. Harry crawled past them, shouting encouragement before making his way forward. One of the Hufflepuff Marauders fell, the green light of the Killing Curse ending his life instantly. In front of him, a Gryffindor girl vomited, body shaking like a leaf. A Ravenclaw sat in his seat, paralysed with fear, until one of his buddies dragged him out of harm's way, muttering to himself, "_Be with us now and at the hour of our death. Amen._" The Army of the Marauders had never been in a battle against the Death Eaters before, yet the majority of them hung on, determined to protect themselves and their friends from the cruelty of the Dark Lord's minions. Gritting his teeth, Harry continued to search for Cho, praying he wasn't too late…

* * *

The Death Eater screamed as Stormfury's curved blade slashed open his innards, the Shadow Hunter howling in triumph. All around him, the Hogwarts staff duelled fiercely against the Death Eaters, fighting with a determination fuelled by horror and rage. The Hog's Head was in ruins, corpses littering the room, furniture smashed. Stormfury dove to one side to avoid a Killing Curse, then responded, lightning bursting from his hands, frying the Death Eater alive. "Forward! For Gaea and glory!" he bellowed, screaming the battle-cries of the Cult of the Shadow Hunters. "TAQWA! Death is on the wind!" 

Beside him, Professor McGonagall transfigured an opponent into a goat, the Death Eater's shout of terror mutated into a fierce bleat. Professor Flitwick duelled with three Death Eaters at once, employing an incredible array of charms and curses with great skill, neutralizing his foes swiftly. Professor Snape used the skills he had learned as a Death Eater against his former comrades, added to the salvo. Hagrid crushed a man's face with a mighty punch, before grabbing him by the ankles and using his as a flail against the minions of the Dark Lord, breaking ribs and skulls.

Stormfury raised a hand, uttering an incantation. A half-dozen Death Eaters exploded in flame, their bodies incinerated in an instant. Another phrase, and three Death Eaters were hurled into the wall by thin vines sprouting from the floor, ribs crushed by the awesome force. Finally, only the Hogwarts staff and a few locals remained, Voldemort's followers pushed back from the pub. Stormfury roared his challenge, the mana flowing through him, the rush of power goading him on. "Everyone all right?" he asked, whipping the blood off his sword.

"We're all fine, Daelin," McGonagall replied shakily. "We have to get out there, protect those students!"

"Yeh, 'Arry's out there!" Hagrid boomed. "We can't jus' leave 'em!"

"Of course not, Hagrid," Stormfury replied, his voice tense and feral. "Sprout, get to the nearest fireplace, Floo for reinforcements, the Order of the Phoenix, the Aurors, anyone. Trelawny," he addressed the former Divination teacher, who had decided to come with them that morning, "head up to the castle and find Dumbledore. The rest of you, follow me. There's battle to be done!"

* * *

"_Stupefy!_" Harry's curse slammed a Death Eater in the chest, rendering him unconscious. The second Death Eater looked at his fallen companion with a shocked look on his face, before Harry's Projectile Hex caught him in the lower jaw, smashing his teeth out. "Cho! CHO!" Harry screamed, looking around desperately, Gryffindor's energies humming in his soul. "CHO!" 

For the past five minutes, he had been searching for her, rushing through chamber after chamber of supplies, fighting running duels with Death Eaters as he did. And still, Cho was nowhere to be found. The battle outside was becoming more desperate, and still he hadn't find her. "_CHO!_"

A Death Eater held a struggling young Hufflepuff girl down, slobbering all over her cheek. "_Reducto!_" The Death Eater was thrown back, propelled into a row of cabinets. "CHO!"

Outside, Death Eaters plundered and raped, killing at will, setting homes and businesses aflame. The Dark Mark hovered over the village. Blood stained the virgin snow, and the fallen stared with dead eyes at the unforgiving sky. "CHO!"

Finally, Harry halted, catching his breath, throat raw from screaming. As he did, he felt drops of moisture land on his head. "What the-" The red fluid felt sticky, almost like…

A dozen strides and he was at the door leading to second floor. "_Alahomora!_" he cried, the charm impacting the door to little effect. _Damn!_ The sound of stomping feet and faint screams sounded overhead. A fever seemed to grip him, that he was too late, too late, too late! "_Reducto!_" The curse smashed into the door, buckling it slightly. "_Reducto!_" Another curse, more splinters flew. "_REDUCTO!"_ Harry screamed one last time, the door shattering into a thousand pieces, woodchips flying everywhere. Harry bounded up the steps three at a time, the energies of Gryffindor screaming for release. _Please, don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead…_

"_Crucio!_" The curse hit him as soon as he reached the top, the sensation of a thousand hot knives burrowing into his flesh. Another Cruciatus was added, and Harry writhed on the floor in complete agony, tears forming because of the pain. Yet another one joined, and Harry screamed until his lungs were empty, then screamed some more. Finally the pain stopped, and he opened his eyes to the scene before him. A dozen Death Eaters stood in the small room, each with their wand pointed straight at his heart. And in the middle of their ranks stood Lucius Malfoy, grinning as he held Cho in a firm grip, her wrists bound behind her, a dirty gag shoved in her mouth, muffling her terrified screams. The elder Malfoy sighed in contentment, fondling Cho's breasts, causing her to struggle even more. "Why, Mr. Potter, how good of you to join us," he smirked, raising his wand…


	14. Reaping the Whirlwind

**Chapter 14: Reaping the Whirlwind**

The curved sword passed through another Death Eater, blood spattering all over the snow in a crimson arc, rending flesh and bone. The next Death Eater looked up, shock on his face, mouth gaping at the titanic Shadow Hunter. One of Stormfury's barbed spikes caught him between the eyes, pinning the man's skull to the wall. The Shadow Hunter gritted his teeth, parrying a knife-blow before twisting his sword around and driving it into the Death Eater's chest. _Outfoxed, by Gaea. How the hell did these scum get inside the wards?_ he mused, pushing the corpse off his blade with a sickening squelch. "Stand together! Defend yourselves!" he barked at the villagers, observing the terrified expressions on their faces. "Fight!"

From a nearby alley, Killing Curses flashed, blasting several villagers, sending further panic into the masses of horrified locals and students who desperately fought to flee the town, clawing at each other like demented fiends in order to escape. The Death Eaters cordoned off the borders of Hogsmeade up to the school, killing anyone who tried to escape. Meanwhile, additional Death Eaters made their way into the village, murdering and raping as they went, putting homes and stores to the torch. Here and there, they found resistance, mainly from Stormfury and the Army of the Marauders, but it was disorganized and fragmentary at best. Without further aid, the village would fall, its inhabitants massacred beneath the knives and curses of the Death Eaters.

Stormfury watched as a small cottage went up in flames, the wind shifting the smouldering debris to other structures, setting them alight as well. Hot blood spilled out onto the once-fresh snow, now stained with the detritus of battle. The sound of innocents screaming and Death Eaters laughing were carried on the cold breeze, the cries of the wounded and injured adding to the crescendo. The fires were spreading, faster than the volunteer fire crews could keep up, engulfing large sections of the village, thick smoke billowing out into the clear blue sky, smudging out the sun.

_Hogsmeade is doomed_.

Howling in rage, Stormfury barrelled into the alleyway, a red nimbus encasing his hands. Three Death Eaters stood there, shocked by the Shadow Hunter's presence, raising their wands, too late. Elemental fire swooped upon them, blowing their flesh to ragged ruin, Stormfury screaming as the mana rushed through him. Whip-cracks sounded and three more Death Eaters appeared behind him, black cloaks sprayed with blood. Stormfury shifted his aim, incinerating them as well. _They've managed to breach the wards around Hogsmeade!_ he realized, drawing his sword again. _The defences have been compromised!_

Three more Death Eaters bounded towards him, knives unsheathed, seeking his blood. Stormfury whirled, sword slicing through an opponent's chest, ducking low as their knives flashed overhead. The impetus of the Death Eaters' charge took them right past him, and Stormfury capitalized on their miscalculation, spinning around in a mighty slash, cleaving one of the Death Eaters in two. Before his mate could react, Stormfury thrust through his stomach, impaling him like a bug in a small boy's insect collection.

Yet another Death Eater appeared, wand raised. "_Avada Kedavra!_" Stormfury wrenched the body of his latest kill in front of him, the green light of the curse absorbed by the human shield. Moving quickly, he leapt up and kicked the fallen Death Eater, sending him flying into his companion, crushing them both.

"Die!" he roared, spitting into the snow. "Taste the kiss of cold steel, foul deviants! _DEATH IS ON THE WIND!_"

They were losing. The Death Eaters stormed into the village, bringing death and defilement to everything they saw. Their numbers were large, while the defenders were a pitiful few, scattered, outflanked and taken by surprise, trapped like rats in their own lands. Stormfury steeled himself, focusing the mana within him. _At least it will be a glorious death_, he told himself, gathering his power together and heading into the fray.

* * *

Blaise tried to cease the growing bile that welled in her throat, cold sweat dripping down her forehead. As the first curses struck all around her, she ducked into the nearest alleyway, her instincts of self-preservation coming to the fore. Presently, she huddled in the alley; listening to the harsh cries of Death Eater victims rise above the mayhem.

She cursed herself for her cowardice, fingers tightening around her wand. _People are dying, Blaise!_ her conscience chastised. _Don't you care? Or are you just like Malfoy and his cronies, don't give a damn about anyone but yourself?_

"No, I'm not," Blaise whispered to herself, slowing her breathing and calming down. Her legs felt like jelly, but she hauled herself to her feet, blue eyes glancing at the devastation. She took several more breaths, concentrating on the task at hand. _Come on, Blaise, you can do this. Remember what Professor Stormfury taught you. Just find some of the other students and get your sweet little arse out of here…_

Blaise screamed as a rough hand landed on her shoulder, wrenching her around. Behind his bone-white mask, the Death Eater looked at her curiously. "You are of Slytherin House, correct?" he asked, voice gruff.

"Ye-yes," Blaise squeaked in reply, her heart pounding with fear. The Death Eater nodded, dragging her into the shadows, away from the sight of anyone nearby. _What's going on here?_ Blaise thought, refraining from screaming in terror as he ushered her aside. _There has to be some reason for this._ Turning to the Death Eater, she asked, "What's going on? What is the meaning of this? Do you know how much trouble you could get me in if someone sees us?" she snapped, playing the part of the pureblood Voldemort-supporter, praying she wouldn't slip up and break her cover.

"Enough, stupid girl!" the Death Eater hissed. "I have orders from the Dark Lord. Young Malfoy informed you of this, correct?"

Blaise's heart skipped a beat. _The Dark Lord is sending orders to Malfoy, through other members of Slytherin House! What could they be planning?_ she wondered, her keen curiosity piqued by this change of events. "Of course! Draco has told us much, and we are eager to serve the Dark Lord!" she whispered venomously, adding an edge of malice to her voice. "Shall we be moving against the Mudbloods soon?"

Her deception fooled the Death Eater, mistaking the willowy, Muggle-born Slytherin for one of the younger Malfoy's cronies. "Good to hear," the Death Eater replied, eyes shining with delight. "The Dark Lord has these orders: Prepare yourselves. When the time comes, the Dark Lord will call upon you to do your duty, to slay the Mudbloods, and remove their heresy from Hogwarts."

Unconsciously, Blaise bristled at the comment, but did not show her disgust. "Gladly! We are at his command."

The Death Eater chuckled. "Excellent, most excellent. Dumbledore and Potter are weak. A single blow is all it will take to send them crashing down." He paused for a moment, caressing Blaise's cheek with a gloved hand. "A very pretty Slytherin, you are."

Blaise shuddered at his touch, but the Death Eater paid no heed. "You'll be a nice addition to the Harem," he said, his arousal evident inside his trousers.

The Champion of Slytherin smiled despite herself, a wicked idea forming within her cunning mind. "But, of course, my lord," she whispered seductively, advancing towards him, thrusting her breasts forward alluringly. "Perhaps you'd like a sample of my abilities?" she cooed, making the man's ego swell with pride.

"Come and get some, little angel," he giggled, tearing down his trousers.

As the distance between them closed, the Death Eater ripped off his mask, revealing the face of Avery as he captured her lips in a rough kiss. Blaise's left hand stroked his hair, while the other reached into his pocket, fingers closing around his wand. The kiss ended, and Blaise smiled into his leering visage. "Sorry, pal, but fat chance of that."

Avery's expression changed to a puzzled one, and Blaise struck hard, head-butting the Death Eater in the face with a sharp cry. He stumbled back, momentarily stunned, and Blaise seized the opportunity, drawing both of their wands simultaneously. "_Reducto!_" she screamed, wielding both wands at once. Two curses ploughed into the Death Eater's face, somersaulting him backwards, stunned completely.

"Too predictable," Blaise muttered under her breath. Her cunning mind working at lightspeed, she stripped the fallen Avery of his cloak, mask and wand. Avery was a fairly small man, and the clothes fit better than she expected.

Moments later, a figure dressed in slightly baggy Death Eater robes walked out of the alley, towards the raging conflict.

* * *

Cho screamed in terror as Harry spasmed under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, her cries drowned out by the gag shoved in her mouth. An agonized shriek ripped through Harry's throat, the Death Eaters maintaining the curse for several seconds, half a minute, he did not know how long. Finally, the agony ceased, and Harry raised his head, looking into Cho's eyes, large with fright. "I'm so sorry, Cho…" he mumbled, his body aching from the punishment. "I've failed you…"

A vicious kick to the chest sent Harry sprawling, bowled over by the force of the blow, his head slamming the floor with a dull thud. Another kick, this time to the stomach, and he emptied its contents violently out onto the oaken planks. "_Crucio!_" The pain returned, greater than ever, every nerve ending screaming for release. The Death Eaters chuckled, torturing him some more, all the while Cho begged and pleaded into the gag, diamond tears streaking her face. Her body writhed in Lucius' grasp as she fought for release, her wrists rubbed raw by the rough bonds.

Lucius chuckled, tracing Cho's cheek with a knuckle, the Ravenclaw beauty twisting her head to the side to escape his caresses. "Well, Potter, I must say that your choice in whores is very keen," he said, licking her face. "An exotic beauty, well done!"

Harry raised his wand, only to have a quick Disarming Charm wrench it from his grasp. Another kick to the side of the head caused stars to appear before his vision, pushing him to the floor. "Naughty, naughty, wittle baby Potter," Bellatrix cackled, using her baby-voice. "Don't want to hurt yourself, do you?"

Death Eaters seized him as he rushed forward, halting him inches from Bellatrix's face. "WHORE!" he screamed, spitting on her, saliva stained red. "YOU KILLED SIRIUS, YOU BITCH! YOU'LL PAY!"

Another solid punch silenced his objections, two Death Eaters forcing his arms behind him with an iron grip, beating him as he tried to resist, kicking and bellowing. Bella raised her wand, and Harry experienced the feel of hot knives once again, Bella howling as she maintained the curse. The young Gryffindor gritted his teeth, barely suppressing the urge to scream, each agonizing instant passing like a month.

Finally, it ended, Harry slumping in the grip of the Death Eaters. Lestrange cackled insanely. "Oh, this is so much fun! I haven't enjoyed myself this much since those Longbottoms!" she screeched, firing off another burst for good measure, watching Harry shake. "Would you like to join me, Lucius?"

Malfoy nuzzled the nape of Cho's neck, a hand moving expertly to her breasts. "No thank you, I'm fine right here," he replied, his voice husky with desire, gently kissing away the girl's tears. "Any word from Rodolphus yet?"

Bellatrix slapped Harry viciously, her vaguely beautiful features contorted into a snarl. "He should be in position now. To think of the power our master had blessed him with…"

"Go down there and assist the others," Malfoy ordered sharply, brushing away a strand of Cho's hair. "Take your squad with you, I won't be needing them."

Lestrange glared at the blond-haired Death Eater. "Just remember to leave Potter for _me_," she hissed. Her weather-beaten hands cupped Harry's cheek for a moment. "I'll enjoy breaking you, my little pet," she muttered, kissing his forehead.

Harry spat on her once more, growing angrier by the moment, his skull pounding like a steel drum. "I'll see you in hell first!" he retorted, earning another blow to the head for his defiance.

Bellatrix giggled slightly, then signalled her troops, leading them down the stairs to join the raging battle, leaving only Malfoy and four other Death Eaters behind with the captives. As Lestrange's departing footsteps disappeared below them, Lucius turned to Harry, keeping Cho in a tight grip. "Do you know what it's like in Azkaban, Potter?" he asked, his tone venomous. "Do you know what it's like, having the Dementors standing outside your door, day in, day out?"

"It's no better than you deserve," Harry growled, green eyes filled with barely contained rage. The energies of Gryffindor rose up, roaring in his soul, demanding to be released…

At a nod from Malfoy, one of the Death Eaters smashed Harry in the face, the coppery taste of blood welling up in his mouth. "Force his eyelids open," Malfoy snapped, squeezing Cho's breasts. "Consider this payback for sending me to Azkaban and destroying the prophecy, Potter. I've suffered immensely because of you, and now it's time to return the favour. I'm going to fuck your Shanghai whore, and you are going to watch. And when you enter Hell Pit, every day, your little slut and myself are going to pay you a visit. You'll get a front-row seat to her defilement, every day of your miserable existence. I'll break her body and her mind, and I cannot _wait_ to do it."

Cho's muffled screams sounded more desperate than ever, as Lucius dragged her over to a long table, pinning her down beneath him. One hand went up underneath her sweater, running over every part of her body. The other hand reached down slowly, fiddling with the zipper of her jeans. Lucius gave the traditional Malfoy smirk. "After all I've heard about this girl, I doubt she's a virgin. Aren't you, girl?" he asked, answered by mews of despair. "I particularly enjoy the shy ones, they unleash their fire in bed."

"Let her go, Malfoy!" Harry screamed, his eyes wild with rage. "It's not her fight! It's me you want! LET HER GO!"

"Not like this, Potter," Malfoy calmly replied, undoing the zipper. Cho struggled even more furiously, much to his delight. "Besides, she's such a pretty present, and all tied up for me. It would be rude if I didn't claim this gift."

"YOU UGLY SON OF A BITCH!" Harry bawled, veins bulging on his temples. "TAKE YOUR GODDAMN HANDS OFF HER!"

One of the Death Eaters looped his beefy arms around Harry's head, and started squeezing, clamping down on his skull like a vice, slowly building up the pressure. Harry's face turned red as he screamed and cursed at the top of his lungs, "STOP! LET HER GO! STOP IT!"

Finally, in one quick motion, Lucius slid down Cho's jeans, baring her long legs and the delta of her panties. The Death Eaters laughed uproariously, and Malfoy loosened his belt and unbuckled his pants, turning to the livid Harry. "Now, Potter, see the power of the Dark Lord. You've stood against him for far too long. Time and time again, you have defied him, and now every insult shall be repaid ten times over." He grabbed Cho by the jaw, and twisted her head so that she looked into Harry's eyes, her face drenched with tears. "You've failed her."

The truth struck him like a hammer-blow, and Harry broke down sobbing, an aura of defeat passing over him. Yet, at the same time, he was incredibly angry, angry at Voldemort, angry at Dumbledore, angry at Malfoy, angry at Cho for getting herself captured, angry at Stormfury for abandoning them like this, angry at how Malfoy's voice was calm and strangely soothing, like he had rehearsed his speech, and this entire thing had been planned, like his fate was, to kill or be killed, to kill or be killed, to kill or be killed…

Malfoy smirked, grabbing at Cho's sex. "Ah, perfect! I always enjoy being the first to tame the shrew."

Harry looked into the Death Eater's eyes with unbound hatred, his body literally shaking with rage, a titanic roar erupting from his throat. One thought remained. _Kill_.

With a mighty scream, the energies of Gryffindor awakened from their millennia-long slumber, fuelled by Harry's rage, seeking the Dark essences of the Death Eater's magic. Crimson fire exploded from every pore of Harry's body, devouring the Death Eaters restraining him in a cyclone of destruction. As the magic was unbound, Harry screamed with bloodlust, power pervading every sense, every cell, every fibre, his soul reborn in the flames. It was not the mana-based fire of Elementalism, but something older, something more powerful, driven to cleanse the dark and preserve the light. The Champion of Gryffindor struggled to bring the power in check, but the door was open. The dam had been removed. The power had been sparked.

Nothing would stop it now.

Malfoy's jaw dropped, seeing three of his Death Eaters annihilated in the briefest of moments. "Kill him!" he screamed at his sole surviving crony, throwing Cho's bound form aside and running for the door, struggling to do up his britches. "Kill him!"

Harry raised his hands, body quaking under the strain of the magic. Twin bolts of red light stabbed outwards, blowing the crony apart, chunks of charred flesh falling to the floor. Harry whirled towards the fleeing Lucius Malfoy, focusing his newfound powers in a different form. A thick tendril of translucent red energy emerged from the aura surrounding him, seizing Malfoy by the throat and lifting him up above the floor, bringing the Death Eater face to face with Harry. When the young man spoke, his voice was deep and raging, green eyes glaring down at Cho's attempted rapist. "_Not so confidant now, are we?_" he asked, the tendril tightening its grip.

Lucius jerked his feet, trying to pry the tendril loose from his throat, choking and sputtering, "Please, Harry…mercy…spare me…"

The enraged Champion slammed his victim into a wall, shattering wood, plaster, and Malfoy's ribs with a vicious crunch. "_Mercy? How many of your victims pleaded for the same before you killed them? Cho begged for mercy, and you tried to rape her! Why are you so deserving, you bastard? WHY MUST YOU LIVE WHILE OTHERS HAVE DIED?_"

Blood poured from Malfoy's mouth as he replied, "Please Harry, spare…me! I…can give you…money…power…women…mercy!" The Death Eater was terrified, his body beaten and bruised by the young man who now held him in a death-grip, blistered by the energy that flowed through his blood, maddened by the sight of his love nearly raped by the blond-haired pureblood. "Please…mercy!" Malfoy pleaded once more, voice thick with fear, the lack of air turning his face red. His hands reached out behind him, trying to seize his wand.

Harry's response was to smash Malfoy against the ceiling, before driving him into the floor. Blood stained the timbers. Windows shattered as Harry drew in more of Gryffindor's energies. "_FOOL!_" he screamed, shaking Malfoy like a rag doll. "_I am the Champion of Gryffindor, descendant of Godric himself! My bloodline has seen the rise and fall of nations, and witnessed a millennia of glory and sorrow! You are an insignificant insect compared to my power, and your Master shall feel my wrath, as you shall!_"

The energy tendril directed Malfoy's broken, struggling form over to a shattered window, the sounds of battle raging outside. "You…you…you…" Malfoy stammered, his face now totally white as he realized what was happening. "The…prophecy! You must…slay…the Dark Lord!"

"_Correct, Malfoy,_" Harry replied. "_Now, DIE!_"

"NO!" Lucius screamed, drawing his wand, but Harry was quicker, sending the energies of Gryffindor lancing into the Death Eater's body. Lucius screamed once more as the energy devoured him, tearing off his flesh, burning muscle and bone, ripping through him like a lion. The tendril disappeared, and Malfoy's flayed corpse catapulted through the open window like a descending comet, quenching itself in the snow.

Harry bellowed his triumph, gazing down at the vast carnage before him. He experienced nothing now except for the power, didn't hear Cho's cries of frustration as she tried to break her bonds, didn't see the dead students raped and murdered by the Death Eaters, didn't smell the stench of roasting flesh and burning wood as it wafted on the breeze. The energies of Gryffindor were _everything_, and Harry ignored all other sensations. Everything else was irrelevant.

"_REAP THE WHIRLWIND YOU HAVE SOWN, TOM!_" he howled in the noon sky, causing the Death Eaters to pause and tremble in fear. And with that, Harry hurled himself from attic, breaking his fall upon a market cart, pouncing on Voldemort's minions like Death himself. Red fire blazed, felling two of them almost immediately. Shrieking in terror at the sight of him, the Death Eaters broke and ran, pursued by the vengeful Harry as he brought justice upon them, slaughtering all in his path.

* * *

"After the scum!" Ron barked, raising his wand. "_Reducto!_" The curse ploughed into a Death Eater, throwing him to the ground. The Army of the Marauders joined in, the flash of hexes blinding him for a moment, causing his eyes to water, while they eviscerated the enemy ranks, the sheer number of curses tossing the Death Eaters aside like rag-dolls. Within the theatre, the ambushing Death Eaters were outnumbered by the full might of the Army of the Marauders, Hogsmeade locals, and other students. The element of surprise had worn off, and while many ran for their lives, the Marauders held their ground, their dedication to Harry and their friends strong in the face of the might of the Dark Lord.

Beside him, Ginny hurled a Bag-Bogey Hex, mucus-like tendrils erupting from a Death Eater's face. Hermione weaved a complex charm against Voldemort's minions, and three fell, their knees inverted. Neville and Luna were a powerful team, watching each other's backs and combining their attacks to stun the strongest Death Eater.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of intense duelling, the last of the Death Eaters inside the theatre fell, and silence overtook the building. Students and villagers alike held baited breath, half-convinced that this was a dream. Finally, after a few moments, the entire audience breathed a sigh of relief, moving to aid the wounded and grieve over the dead.

"Everyone, get clear of the village!" Ron shouted at the top of his lungs. A sea of faces stared back at him, tearful students, gruff locals, and the determined Marauder volunteers. "Please, everyone get out of here. That was probably just a first wave. We'll escort you to Hogwarts, where you'll be safe."

A toothless old miser shouted back, "What about our homes, young man? Who will defend them if not us?" Grumbles of approval sounded from the villagers.

Hermione moved forward, petitioning the crowd to listen. "Your homes can be rebuilt, but your lives cannot. Please, think of your families! You wouldn't have them die just to protect some possessions, would you?"

The miser stood proud, an arthritic hand holding his wand, considering Hermione's pleas. Finally, he reached a decision. "Alright, girl, you've convinced me. Us lads will go to Hogwarts. Always wanted to visit a funny place like that."

Giving a steady stream of orders, Ron and Hermione organized the group for flight. As the tide of refugees exited the theatre, the two stayed behind with Neville and Luna, contributing a final piece of advice. "Bring them back to Hogwarts," Hermione said, giving Neville a quick hug. "Don't wait for us."

Confusion crossed Neville's eyes. "What? What do you mean, don't wait for us?"

"We're going to find Harry and Cho," Ron answered, his voice cold and determined.

"What? Are you kidding, mate?" Neville asked. "I'm no coward, but that's crazy! Wait for Dumbledore to arrive, he'll find them, no problem."

Hermione shook her head. "No, there's no time. Who knows what kind of danger they're in? You two lead the students, we'll find Harry and Cho."

"Let us come with you, Ron," Luna declared, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "You might-MMMPF!"

The Death Eater appeared behind the young Ravenclaw, accompanied by a sharp snap. One hand covered her mouth, while the other clenched a bloody knife, holding it at her throat. "Drop your wands," he growled behind his mask. "Wands on the ground, now."

All three of the student's wands rose like clockwork, aiming for the black-cloaked attacker. "Let her go," Neville snapped, his face a stony mask. "Let her go right now, you lousy bastard."

The Death Eater pressed the knife tip against Luna's throat, causing a small bead of blood to form on her skin. "Drop them, NOW!" the Death Eater screamed, his grip tightening. "I'm warning you, put down your wands, or she dies." His tone signalled his murderous intent, and wild eyes glared at the students.

Hermione spared a glance at Luna. Her expression was lifeless, her eyes cold and hard. It was a look she had seen before, in Umbridge's old office, as she threatened to torture Harry with the Cruciatus Curse, and the other DA members held been captured by the Inquisitorial Squad. It was a look of hopelessness and regret, a look of submission, and when Hermione stared into Luna's cold eyes, she knew that she was ready to die.

Swearing venomously under his breath, Neville dropped his wand, the yew shaft clattering to the floor. Ron and Hermione followed suit, and the three students were left unarmed. The Death Eater smiled. "Kick them over here," he demanded, still maintaining his grip. A sudden movement caught his eye, as another Death Eater walked in, his black robes billowing around him, hood and mask shielding his face from view. "Ho, brother," the first Death Eater greeted the newcomer. "Finish off these Muggle-lovers for me, will you?"

The other Death Eater nodded, moving silently towards Ron. The sleeves of his robes drew back, revealing a wand in each hand. Like lightning, the Death Eater moved, raising his wands, twin Reductor Curses streaking towards…the Death Eater holding Luna. One curse impacted the knife hand, the blade fallen from nerveless fingers. The other took the Death Eater right between the eyes, hurling him backwards, his head slamming into the wall. This sudden change of events happened so fast, none of the students had time to react.

The newcomer paused for a moment, ripping off his mask and throwing back the hood. Golden-blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief and cunning, and Blaise Zabini stood facing the Gryffindors, remarking, "Oh, whoopee, it's Potter's little gang."

"Who-" Hermione began, but stopped, realizing where she had seen the girl before. Potions, the Sons of Enigma attack, the blond Slytherin nearly raped… "Blaise?"

"No, it's St. Nick," Blaise retorted sarcastically. "You should always watch yourself, and never give in to threats. You could have just stunned her and removed his cover."

Fuming, Neville went to comfort the shocked Luna, arms curled protectively about her. "We're not heartless Slytherins, you know!"

Blaise turned on him, sharp insults flying. "No, you're just a bunch of heroic, yet stupid, Gryffindors. Regardless, I guess I'm stuck with you, since you obviously can't defend yourselves. Come on, let's get out of here."

"Ron and I are staying to find Harry," Hermione replied, brown eyes meeting Blaise's blue ones. "You guys can go on ahead, but we're staying."

Blaise looked at her incredulously. "You do know that no one will be coming back for you? If you do this, we're not going to risk the lives of anyone else to find you."

"Why, Blaise? Scared?" Ron sneered.

"No, just responsible," Blaise responded, fiddling with her two wands. "I don't want anyone else to die, especially not for crazy schemes like this." Her eyes softened, and a smile came to her lips. "Good luck," she said, all seriousness in her voice.

As Blaise, Luna and Neville joined the convoy of fleeing civilians, Ron and Hermione went deeper into the village, sifting through the wreckage for signs of their friends. Even as the curses flew and Death Eaters hunted, the two Gryffindors continued, obvious to the figure in the red mask that watched them from afar…

* * *

Stormfury tore through the Death Eaters like a crash of rhinos, desperate fanaticism fuelling every strike. His curved sword fell with the regular monotony of a butcher's cleaver, while his oak staff moved faster than the eye could see, delivering a whirlwind of blows. All the while, Stormfury tapped huge amounts of mana and unleashed the powers of Elementalism against Voldemort's minions. Parrying another knife-blow, Stormfury ran past and behind his attacker, seizing the Death Eater's neck and snapping it like a twig. Charging forward, Stormfury drove his sword into an opponent's gut, before whirling around and parting a third Death Eater's head from his shoulders. The bloodcurdling death screams of a Death Eater pierced the war zone, and his fellows fled, heading for the relative safety of the main Death Eater force scattered near the centre of the village. Stormfury wiped the sweat from his brow, wearied by the incessant conflict. The Death Eaters had been cleared from this section of the village by his efforts, but the battle was by no means won. Already, he could hear the more senior Death Eaters bellowing orders, rallying their forces to drive out the last pockets of resistance.

In the next alley, in plain view of the Shadow Hunter, Harry battled ferociously against enemies ten times his number. The energies of Gryffindor took a bloody toll, blasting through the Death Eater ranks, blowing them away like leaves in an autumn gale. Two Death Eaters screamed in agony, horribly burned by bolts of red fire. Another energy tendril formed, and Harry swatted a foe away, ploughing him into a stone wall. Screaming a guttural war-cry, Harry cupped his hands together and released an incredible blast of energy, vaporizing several Death Eaters, reducing them to stray atoms.

_He's done it!_ Stormfury realized. _The energies of Gryffindor have sparked. He's gained access to the power!_ However, the Champion of Gryffindor was not having things all his way. Bruises and cuts covered his arms and face, and his body trembled, the rush of power almost too great for him to sustain. Occasionally, Stormfury saw the light scatter and fade before rushing forth again into another group of Death Eaters. _He's lost control, and won't be able to continue for much longer. I've got to get him and the other Champions clear_, he resolved, wiping his sword clean and moving forward.

Pain flared at his temples, as a nexus of dark energies bloomed from a nearby building, an affront to Stormfury's mana-charged senses.

Then the corpses behind him began to stir.

A low moan emerged from the dead throats of the fallen Death Eaters as black sparks entered their bodies, filling these empty shells with new, unnatural life. Slowly, Stormfury turned around, his face stricken with horror at the abominations that had risen once more. Undead, brought back from death for unspeakable purposes, mindless corpses under the control of whomever had reincarnated them. There was a name to this dark magic, a name to this blasphemy against life, a name to this Forbidden Lore. "Necromancy," he whispered, throat dry with fear.

One of the undead faced Stormfury, the corpse of a young child, barely five years old. Milky-white eyes stared at the Shadow Hunter, blank and soulless. The body took on a more decayed appearance, the necromantic energies causing it to decompose five weeks in five seconds, before preserving it in a macabre state. The creature snarled, revealing leprous gums and rotten teeth. Hands outstretched, clawing at the air. "Necromancy," Stormfury whispered again. All around him, more and more undead rose, limbs caked with frost. Some were the corpses of Death Eaters, while others had been Hogwarts students in life. Mortal wounds scarred many of them. Many were without heads, other their chests were ripped open. "Necromancy."

Suddenly, unbridled rage overcame him, his vision turning red with anger. "_NECROMANCY!_" he bellowed, meeting the child-zombie's charge, his sword smashing through its skull, pulpy brain matter oozing out onto the snow. Still, it came on, clawed fingers tearing through a portion of his battle-robes like paper. Stormfury howled once more, chanting a quick spell, blasting the undead thing to dust. But the others were upon him, clawing and ripping, ignoring the injuries they had received in mortal life. Uttering another incantation, the Shadow Hunter summoned fire to him, burning the lifeless minions to cinders.

The screams rose to a fever pitch around the village, students and villagers terrified by the appearance of these unliving monstrosities. In the space of a few instants, the numbers of the attackers swelled substantially, a small army of undead warriors engaging the enemies of the Dark Lord. Slavering zombies tore people apart, lips stained with fresh blood. The dark teachings of Nehek had come to claim this town, a bloody sacrifice to Voldemort.

"_NECROMANCY!_" Fire sprung from Stormfury's hands, carving through more zombies. "_SHOW YOURSELF, NECROMANCER! COME OUT AND FIGHT!_" he howled, caught in the grips of a nightmare-induced madness. "_LET US DO BATTLE, LIFE AGAINST DEATH!_"

Whip-cracks sounded, and dozens of Order of the Phoenix members Apparated into the village, supported by a company of Aurors. They were immediately greeted by a horde of undead, clawed hands reaching to snatch away their fragile lives. A fusillade of curses slammed into the zombies, but they did not slow, ripping and biting into the ranks of the living. Aurors screamed in rage as their comrades fell, only to be reborn as undead themselves.

The Aurors surged forward, frightened by the undead but determined to see victory. Lethal curses blasted into the loathsome mass, hurtling zombies backwards, shredding them to pieces, disintegrating them utterly. The remaining zombies continued onwards, oblivious to all losses, uncaring of any causality. Contrary to popular belief, the undead could be killed, but they were incredibly resistant to pain and injury, having already died. They did not eat, or drink, or sleep, unfettered by human needs. They did not feel sorrow, rage, guilt, or hopelessness. They could be driven to do battle forever and would fight until every last one was finished for good. In short, they were the perfect soldiers, and now Voldemort could command armies of them.

Tonks and Shacklebolt Apparated beside Stormfury, firing off a few quick curses. "What's going on?" Tonks asked, surveying the area.

"The Death Eaters have breached the defences, and they have a necromancer with them. I've sent for Dumbledore. Locate the students and get them out of here. Get them out!"

Kingsley grimaced, firing off a quick curse. Several of the undead fell, bodies transfigured to jelly. "I'll send a squad to assist you."

Stormfury shook his head. "No, I'll work better without interference, thank you." His expression turned grim, and his voice rose over the din as clear as a bell. "Hold the line, brave warriors," he declared to the Aurors. "Falter, and the lives of innocents will be the price. Stand firm, and cast these abominations back to the hell they came from!"

The Shadow Hunter's words goaded the Aurors on, and they charged towards the undead horde, screaming their defiance. With Stormfury at their head, they scythed into the pack of foes, curses and hexes flying, lighting up the clouded sky like fireworks. Stormfury himself slew a dozen undead, his sword flashing like lightning, every stroke carving through an opponent. Ash blanketed the front of his robes, and fire burned a terrifying trail, the stench of burning flesh rising on currents of air.

* * *

The first of the undead pounced towards him, and Harry redirected the energies of Gryffindor, face seemingly daemonic in the blazing light of his magic. Zombies moaned and were reduced to ash, the briefest touch incinerating them, the necromantic energies undone in an instant.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Hidden behind the corner of the alley, six Death Eaters fired a barrage of Killing Curses, green light blowing apart rain barrels and other debris. Harry dove to the side, partially shielded by the refuse scattered throughout the Alley. When the last sources of cover vanished, he leapt back up, gathering his energies for one mighty attack. A massive red bolt erupted from his hands, blasting through some of the stonework and vaporizing two Death Eaters, leaving them organic stains on the snow. As the other Death Eaters tried to flee, Harry cut them down, howling in rage.

The young Champion of Gryffindor strode out into the main street, daring any foe to come face him. Death Eaters fell back before his awesome presence, escaping to the company of their fellows, while more and more undead counter-attacked. Harry spared no one, wreaking havoc wherever he found an enemy. "_Come and fight!_" he roared. "_I am the Champion of Gryffindor, the avatar of Godric. My will cannot be denied!_"

His entire being was consumed with power. All other considerations had past. Even as Hogsmeade burned, and the Death Eaters rallied for another attack, and Cho watched him, still bound, from the window, he continued onward, driven to slay the servants of Voldemort, those who brought death and misery to the Wizarding world in the name of their foul master.

The dark nexus flared once again, and more corpses rose, slaying everything in their path. Still the necromantic energies built up, pulsing and throbbing, the necromancer weaving his dark power against an unsuspecting victim…

"HARRY!" Stormfury screamed from down the alley, legs pumping in order to reach him. "BEHIND YOU!"

Harry whirled around, the source of the nexus in his vision as the monstrous blast of dark energy impacted his chest, driving into his body, his chest scalded and torn by the assault. He screamed until his throat was raw, dark power burrowing into him like a malevolent worm, the foul death energies slowly killing him, each moment agonizing in their intensity. The energies of Gryffindor reacted, wrapping around him, shielding him from the worst of the blast, but the damage was done.

Before the horrified gazes of the Order, Harry fell, collapsing still upon the ground, the energies of Gryffindor fading around him…

Stormfury was screaming incoherently now, charging towards the source of the foul spell, fists clenched around his sword hilt. Flames erupted along the length of the blade, and the Shadow Hunter mowed through the ranks of the enemy, setting zombies aflame, scything Death Eaters in two, howling like some daemon sent to bring ruination to humanity.

New cries rose above the fury, heralding a new threat.

"Dementors! The Dementors are coming!"

From the depths of the Forbidden Forest, a lone Dementor emerged, followed by another, and another, and a dozen more, and still more, the black-cloaked wraiths rising like dark licks of flame. The air became colder, the worst memories of the townsfolk reflected in their eyes. The Dementors swarmed together in a single inexorable mass of terror, passing over the village, their combined presence overwhelming most of the defenders. Even the stoic Aurors could not stand against such might, and were being slowly pushed back by the weight of Dementors and undead.

Patroni leapt from the ranks of the Aurors, Order members and Marauders, brilliant white auras combating the dark mass of Dementors. The swarm fell back for a moment, then surged forward, overwhelming the effects of the human's spells. As the defenders panicked and broke, mobs of undead capitalized on their weakness, tearing and clawing their way into the breach. The Auror counter-offensive had become a rout, and the defenders fled towards the refugee column and the Army of the Marauders, in hopes of escaping the war zone.

Stormfury had another objective. Righteous wrath burned in his mind, and an almost insane fever gripped him. Ignoring the destruction around him, he rushed to the source of the dark nexus, eager to finish off the necromancer and end the undead threat.

* * *

Stormfury's muscled frame slammed into the warehouse door, tearing the rotten wood off its hinges. The Shadow Hunter stopped to rest for a moment, drawing his sword, now crusted over with the blood of dozens of foes. "Come out, foul one," he whispered, almost playfully, his voice echoing in the silence of the warehouse. "Come and face the harbinger of Gaea's vengeance."

With a quick tap on the floor, the head of Stormfury's staff glowed a soft white, illuminating the darkened interior. Like a shadow, he made his way through the building, hunting for his deadly prey. An acrid reek filled the building, the hard-hitting tang of spices and rotting meat assailing his nostrils, making his eyes water.

The dark nexus flared again, and Stormfury dodged to the side, the bolt of shadow energy screaming past him, blowing a sizeable hole through the masonry. Chunks of stone and mortar grazed his face as they flew past like shrapnel. The Shadow Hunter gasped in pain as the tail end of the spell brushed past him. _So cold!_

Another blast appeared from the darkness, but the Shadow Hunter was ready. Fire leapt from outstretched hands, slamming into the unholy assault. Stormfury gritted his teeth as the spells collided, forcing towards each other in a match of magical strength. Bolts of shadow and flame ricocheted in all directions, immolating wood and destroying stone, whining like a raven's death-cry.

The spells' energies ceased, and Stormfury threw himself to the side, drawing his sword. "You are corrupt, necromancer, and for that, you will be sent screaming to the abyss," he uttered, as if passing sentence. "Your heresy against Gaea will not be tolerated. The Earthmother's grace does not extend to your kind. Repent, for today you die."

The stench intensified fivefold, and the necromancer stepped into view. His skin was rotten, stretched over his bones like rubber, and his flesh was degenerating away. The fiend's body stank like a charnel house, his face sunken in and decaying. A long black cloak enshrouded him, and clawed fingers clutched a staff of black wood, topped with a human skull. Blood-red runes decorated the cloak, each hellish symbol forcing the bile up Stormfury's throat. The necromancer chuckled. "Your heathen goddess has no power over me!" he yelled, pausing to mutter a few words. "Your bitch Earthmother has no power over the Dark Lord's chosen."

"Is the Dark Lord tutoring his chosen in the Forbidden Lore of Nehek now?" Stormfury retorted, pointing his sword at the twisted Death Eater.

The thing laughed. "Only a few. I am Rodolphus Lestrange, first of the Dark Lord's necromancers. You are that Elementalist who fought my wife in Diagon Alley. I must commend you, sir. Not many can stand against a full company of Death Eaters and survive."

"How many of you bastards are there?" Stormfury demanded, wiping the blood from his vision.

"Enough," Rodolphus replied. "Only a few, but enough to raise great legions of undead! We amongst the Dark Lord's necromancers will pave the way to victory! Not the Nagarythe, not the Death Eaters, or the vampires, or the werewolves, or the Dementors. The might of the Lichemaster's teachings is absolute!"

The Shadow Hunter looked at Lestrange with incredible revulsion. "You're insane."

Rodolphus laughed, a disturbing sound. The air grew cold, as the necromancer gathered more of his powers, the sudden influx of dark energy causing his body to degenerate further. He tittered mindlessly, the malevolent energies causing his sanity to decay just as fast as his physical form. "Taste the power of necromancy, Shadow Hunter! You'll regret ever standing against the Dark Lord!"

Glass shattered, and Lucius Malfoy's half-consumed body leapt through the window, pouncing on Stormfury like some great rabid dog. The Shadow Hunter screamed in rage as the thing clawed into him, drawing blood across his chest and sides. Yellow teeth emerged from its gaping mouth, and the zombie lunged its head forward, biting and snapping in an almost snake-like motion.

_Bastard's trying to bite me!_ Stormfury realized. He twisted his body around, avoiding the zombie's warped dentures. Seizing a charred wrist in his brutal grip, the Shadow Hunter threw the undead monster over his shoulder, accompanied by the scream of its arm being torn from its body. Still wielding the arm, Stormfury chanted a fevered incantation. Crystals of frost encapsulated the horror, freezing it solid. Stormfury maintained the spell for several moments longer than necessary, making sure that the beast was _really_ dead this time.

The necromancer chanted a harsh phrase, and more undead poured in, jaws gaping wide. Stormfury paused to blast them apart with scintillating flames, then bound to the left, avoiding yet another bolt of necromantic force. Ducking behind a crate, the Shadow Hunter spared a quick glance at his opponent. The necromancer was struggling to maintain control of the undead he had summoned, black oozes of sweat pouring from his zombified brow. The presence of the necromantic energies had infected his body and, slowly but surely, the Death Eater was becoming more undead than human.

Stormfury grinned as he realized the necromancer's plan of attack, waves of undead first, then offensive spells. _He can't command both at once. While he has managed to raise all of these undead, he can't direct them and use his powers offensively simultaneously._ A definite weakness he could exploit.

Jumping out from cover, Stormfury whispered a quick spell. Barbed spikes emerged from between his fingers, and were sent hurtling towards the necromancer. Rodolphus cursed, dodging the lethal spikes, his concentration temporarily broken. Stormfury bolted forward, sword raised to impale his enemy. Lestrange twisted to the side, then parried with his staff, bright steel and black wood colliding with a sharp crack.

"I will be rid of you, Shadow Hunter," Lestrange growled, chanting, his throat constructed due to the effort. Black fire reared up from his hands, ready to strike.

With a simple gesture, Stormfury dispelled the curse, red fire consuming it like a spare morsel. "Once you are dead, yes."

Dull moans signalled the arrival of more unliving minions, but Stormfury ignored them, concentrating his efforts on the necromancer. With all his energies focused on controlling the undead, he had free rein. The sword-hilt bashed Lestrange in the face, accompanied by a vicious crack as his nose shattered. His concentration broken, the undead stopped in their tracks, the necromancer's hold over them weakened. Lestrange fell, bowled over onto the ground, scrabbling on the stone floor, desperate to find purchase. He wailed as Stormfury's cold blue eyes rose before his face, and the Shadow Hunter's teeth were bared in an almost predatory smile.

The sword thrust downwards, piercing organs, agonizing wetness flowing up Stormfury's hands from the wound.

A look of shock crossed Rodolphus Lestrange's face. "No!" he screamed, his life flowing out of him, his body decaying, dissolving into black.

"Know this, necromancer!" Stormfury cried. "I am a Shadow Hunter. For the past twenty years, I have fought the darkness alongside my brethren. We seek out evil wherever it rears its ugly head, and we _will_ drive your master back into the shadow. You are leprous and corrupt. Return to the abyss, foul one!"

As the final breath exited Lestrange's lungs, the undead monsters that wreaked havoc throughout the town died as well. Without the necromantic energies to sustain them, the masses of zombies shrivelled and wilted, their bodies decomposing to dust.

* * *

The cloud of Dementors passed over Harry's unmoving form, the vortex of black-robed terror circling around him like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The boy's body lay upon the bloody snow, the front of his body a blackened and charred mass. One by one, the Dementors descended to ground level, forming a ring around him. A few Dementors broke off, devouring the souls of fleeing townsfolk, but the majority watched on, as one of their number took off its hood and leaned down towards the fallen Gryffindor…

A feminine scream rang out from above the street, and the Dementor exploded in a flash of blue flame, smouldering wisps of cloth carried on the wind. The others reared up, startled, as a lone woman leapt into their midst, blue fire tearing into them, her raven-black hair rising on currents of magical power.

"_You will not touch him!_" Cho screamed, summoning the energies of Ravenclaw against her foes. Dementors shrieked and wailed as they were engulfed by the magic, blue flames incinerating them, reducing a dozen to ash in an instant. The black-cloaked wraiths backed away from the girl, her body shaking with power, tears staining her face. "_He is not yours to take, soul-devouring scum! Should you lay a hand on him, you will not live to regret it!_" she cursed, her chocolate-brown eyes maddened with rage. Her clothes stained with blood and sweat, the Champion of Ravenclaw stood her ground, globes of blue light encasing her hands. "_Now, begone! The souls of these people are not yours to claim!_"

The Dementors were silent for a moment, as if pondering her demands. Faceless cowls stared back at her, and the cloaked nightmares backed away for a moment, wary of the raven-haired woman who dared to face them.

Then the largest Dementor anyone had ever seen floated out from the robed mass, its bony hands peeking out from the sleeves of its cloak. The dark aura generated by this awe-inspiring being dwarfed those of the lesser Dementors, and Cho shook uncontrollably, the memory of that awful day rising to the fore: _"Cedric Diggory! He's dead! Cedric is dead!"_

"_Foolish girl_," the Dementor hissed, its voice raspy and dry. "_We will claim whatever we chose_."

"_That time has ended,_" Cho retorted, blue fire burning bright on her hands. "_No longer will you prey on those who cannot defend themselves. Go away._"

The Dementor's head turned, as it looked at the luminous orbs of power. It hissed in rage, "_We hunger_."

No signal was given, no command was ordered, yet the Dementors charged all the same, screaming towards Cho, black cloaks trailing out behind them. Cho wept, the memory of Cedric's death replayed over and over again. Then a new one, a memory that had existed only a few minutes, that of Harry falling to the ground, wounded by the dark blast, his face a picture of agony as he hit the snow, barely holding on to life…

Cho screamed in rage, and released the energies of Ravenclaw against the Dementors in a whirlwind of fire. Barrelling head-on towards her, the first of the wraiths ran into the proverbial meat grinder, torn apart by the furious magic, their unliving forms burnt to dust. The energies of Ravenclaw seemed to be highly effective against the Dementors, and several dozen were destroyed in the space of a few moments.

The Dementors responded, changing tactics almost immediately. The entire swarm circled around her at high speeds, preventing her from targeting any specific one. Meanwhile, lone Dementors stormed towards the Champion, raking her with their claws, drawing blood with every pass. Cho staggered for a moment, then rose to her feet, blue fire slashing into the spectres, the ash piling around her in great mounds, the acrid smell of spices clogging her nostrils.

For several minutes, this process went on, the Dementors attacking, Cho replying with her magical birthright, blasting the wraiths to cinders. Her arms cut and bloodied, her face red with exertion and hysteria, Cho was a vengeful goddess, blazing through the enemy without concern for her safety, hungering only to protect her love and defeat those who would stand against him.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" From the outskirts of the village, a light burned like a second sun, and the Dementors howled in terror, the massive Patronus charging through them, the magnitude of the spell disintegrating the black-robed horrors. Its phoenix shape shone bright, illuminating the deepest darkness, restoring the spirits of innocents and warriors alike.

And atop the hill stood Dumbledore himself, with a loyal bodyguard of teachers and Order members at his side. His face was grim as he gazed on the devastation, and his heart was enraged and saddened as he saw the dead students, cut down by the vile minions of Voldemort. Raising his wand again, he bellowed the incantation, his voice as clear as a bell and as thunderous as a storm. Another Patronus flew from the tip of his wand, massacring the remaining Dementors, scraps of dark cloth shredded and torn.

The Death Eaters panicked at Dumbledore's sudden appearance, their hearts quailing in fear. With the Dementor swarm destroyed and the undead undone, Voldemort's minions broke, fleeing for their lives. Aurors, Marauders and Order members pursued, screaming for vengeance, their curses reaping a heavy toll. Finally, the last Death Eater escaped. The battle was won, but at a horrible cost.

Salty tears ran down Cho's face as she crawled over to Harry's body, every muscle screaming for release, the energies of Ravenclaw slumbering once more. "Please, wake up, Harry," she moaned, shaking his still form. "Please, Harry, I need you. Don't die, please." No response.

The girl laid her head on the blackened mass of Harry's chest, feeling a faint heart-beat pulsing inside his wounded body. Cho wept freely now, arms around him, whispering words of encouragement while she cried. She cried for him, and all those who had suffered thanks to the Death Eaters.

And the ashes fell like dark snow on a bloodied land.

* * *

Asmodeus looked at the spoils of the raid with pride. The Death Eaters had performed well. Hogsmeade was in flames, its people terrified and battered. A few of the hated Hogwarts students were dead, and a dozen prisoners had been taken. Most importantly, they had put the fear of death into the school. Fear was the greatest weapon in the Death Eater arsenal, and the First Death Eater was pleased to see it had been used to full effect.

Rumour had it that the Boy-Who-Lived himself had been struck down by Rodolphus Lestrange. The necromancer's death was well worth it if that was the case. If Potter died, then the most hated of the Dark Lord's enemies would be gone. If not, he would find himself all the worse when he awoke.

The First Death Eater kicked one of his minions. "Gather them up, and head to camp. We'll have something to entertain us once we regroup."

One of the prisoners stirred, her bushy brunette curls caked with blood. She screamed into her gag as she was hauled to her feet, along with a red-headed boy.

For Ron and Hermione were well and truly captured!


	15. Amongst the Ruins

"_Your choice, to hide the power or to use it. You can fear it or embrace it. Either way, it has already changed your life forever,"_ Taramis Volken, _Diablo: The Black Road_, by Mel Odom.

**Chapter 15: Amongst the Ruins**

The clouds finally parted over ruined Hogsmeade, and the battered victors were left to rustle through the ashes. Students and locals alike frantically searched for friends and loved ones, despair evident on their faces. The wounded screamed for their mothers, for a Healer, for a Killing Curse, anything to ease the pain of their injuries, spilled blood cooling on the snow. The Aurors and Order members set up a perimeter, and the students were ushered up to the school, while many volunteered to stay behind and help the injured. Tonks and a search party of six Aurors hunted for the missing Harry and Cho, while other groups made sure everyone had been evacuated. The horrors done upon this small village would not be soon forgotten.

Stormfury rinsed the blood off his sword with a quick spell, sheathing the shining blade. The face of the Shadow Hunter was stony and impassive, watching the stream of injured being loaded onto the school carriages and taken up to the castle. Inside, his heart lusted for retribution against the Death Eaters. He struggled to control his emotions, chanting a few phrases. _I will not become like my enemy in order to defeat him_, he told himself, taking a few breaths.

Light footfalls on the snow signalled the arrival of both Dumbledore and Avalon. The Spirit Walker stared aghast at the carnage, her catlike eyes filled with sorrow. "Such pain," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a mother's touch. "I'll see what I can do to help." Closing her eyes, she concentrated, focusing her telepathic powers. At once, an aura of contentment and peace settled over the beleaguered townsfolk, Avalon's mental abilities calming their terrified psyches. With the residents calmed, for the moment, she turned back to Stormfury and Dumbledore, a tired smile on her lips. "It's done." She slumped forward a bit, wore out by the large use of her powers.

Immediately, Stormfury was by her side, the big Shadow Hunter cradling her head with astonishing gentleness. Setting her down on a conjured chair, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Will you be alright, Lady?" he asked, staring into her ominous yellow orbs.

Avalon smiled faintly. "Yes, I'll be fine, Daelin," she whispered, her white robes fluttering in the breeze. She was so thin, Daelin realized, her petite body starved by the warpstone dust she used to increase her powers. Frail in body but strong in mind, she was, her soft lips as cold as ice…The Shadow Hunter shook himself from his reverie, furious with his lapse of discipline.

Dumbledore looked over him with obvious concern. "She will be fine, Daelin. Your friend is far stronger than you realize," the wise old wizard declared, his face creased with the lines and crags of age, voice trembling. "In all my years as Headmaster, nothing of this sort has ever happened. I felt the taint of dark magic enter into this town as the necromancer appeared, but by the time I gathered the Order and responded, I was almost to late. No Death Eater has ever set foot near Hogwarts until today."

Stormfury shook his head. "The fault was not yours, Dumbledore," he said, wiping dried blood off his face. "Only that of Voldemort's. And make no mistake, the Dark Lord shall pay."

"You have proven your worth ten times over, Daelin," Dumbledore reassured him, his eyes filled with sorrow for the fallen. "You are indeed a skilled warrior, but Tom has some great cunning in these attacks. The presence of necromancy has changed everything. I believe it is time to level the playing field."

The Shadow Hunter looked at the Headmaster strangely. "What do you mean?"

"I am not a warlike man, Daelin. I take pride in assisting others and helping these children grow into adults, but Tom has forced my hand. Contact your brethren amongst the Shadow Hunters, and ask for their aid. I intend to unite the various factions of the Wizarding world against this threat," Dumbledore stated, his voice echoing his growing strength. "Voldemort is far more dangerous than even Grindewald, and must be stopped at all costs."

"The Ministry will not listen," Stormfury interjected, shaking his head. "It has been tried and tried again. Fudge will let the Dark Lord's armies come to his door before he acting."

A weary voice entered the conversation. "Daelin," Avalon said, rising from her chair, "I believe I can help. We've tried to convince Fudge diplomatically, and it hasn't worked. Maybe it's time to try it a different way."

"Go ahead, Lady," the Shadow Hunter replied, eager to hear her suggestion.

The Spirit Walker paused nervously before continuing. "Blackmail. I can sneak into the Ministry of Magic and search around for anything that can be used against Fudge. Misuse of public funds, a mistress, abuse of power, anything that can convince him of his errors."

Dumbledore frowned. "The potential for disaster is high, Avalon. You could be tortured by the Aurors as a spy, and the Ministry backlash could cripple us."

She smiled faintly. "Then, I'll just have to be careful, won't it?" she said cheekily. "They might be able to hide documents or records, but not thoughts." She tapped the side of her head for added effect.

_What she's proposing could be a one-way ticket_, Stormfury thought, a frown of disapproval on his face. _She could get herself killed! She doesn't have the skills required for this kind of mission!_ And yet, she was right. Her abilities with Occlumency would assist her to discover Ministry secrets, and avoid danger. And they needed extra fighters now more than ever. They had no choice.

Stormfury sighed, defeated. "Very well then. Have Professor McGonagall disguise you, and head to the Ministry," he ordered her, downcast at this turn of events.

The Spirit Walker smiled. "Thank you, Daelin." As she turned to go, she paused for a moment, facing him again, her alabaster features displaying an aura of concern. "You just protect the students, please?" With a whip-crack, she disappeared, the shallow footprints in the snow the only sign of her passing.

Behind him, Dumbledore sighed, weary, defeated. "Anything else to report?"

Stormfury nodded, utter rage flowing through his veins. "Before, I killed him, the necromancer mentioned that others had joined the Dark Lord's cause. Vampires and werewolves, or so he said. Voldemort is gaining allies from all over the world, from every race that has suffered under Fudge's grip. It won't be long now."

"Cornelius is a stubborn man, Daelin," Dumbledore said, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. "He was lived too long in the comfort of power, and is reluctant to change his ways, especially now. That is why the Shadow Hunters are more important than ever. Without the Minister's full support, we must find other friends to help us in this war."

"Don't forget the Champions," Stormfury reminded him. "Where ar-"

A horrified scream cut him off, a feral scream, like that of a wounded animal. The cry pierced the relative silence of the battlefield, Aurors, students, villagers and the Order alike turning to the source of the noise. Her clothes ragged and torn, body shivering and bruised, Cho Chang emerged from a ruined alleyway, dragging the fallen Harry behind her. Uttering a final moan, she collapsed onto the snow, exhausted by the battle.

"By Gaea's sacred embrace!" Stormfury swore, running up to the wounded pair, covering the distance with blazing speed. He lightly slapped Cho's face to revive her, his hands caked with the blood of numerous Death Eaters. "Ms. Chang, wake up!"

Cho opened her eyes, tears welling up. "I couldn't save him. God forgive me, I couldn't save him," she croaked, throat dry and raspy. "He was going to rape me, but Harry stopped him, and this is how I repay him." She wept openly now, clutching the man she loved, terrified at the prospect of losing him.

Dumbledore was there immediately. "Who tried to rape you, Ms. Chang?" he asked gently, his kind face masking a burning anger.

"Lucius Malfoy," Cho replied, holding onto Harry. "He's dead, Harry killed him."

A cold fear swept over Dumbledore. "Ms. Chang," he ordered, "let us see what happened to Harry." Trembling, Cho exposed Harry's injury for the world to see.

Harry Potter had been struck by the necromantic curse head on, reducing his chest to a blackened scab, the nightmarish wound like some twisted parasite on his pale skin. Quickly, Dumbledore looked over him, feeling the faint pulse thrumming at the boy's wrist. "He needs medical aid, immediately!" Dumbledore said, carrying the young Champion in his arms.

Stormfury nodded in agreement, helping Cho to her feet. "This place holds nothing more for us now. Let us return to the castle, and prepare for war."

With that, Hogsmeade was left in ruin, her buildings crumbling and burning, the image of the town in flames like some twisted sunset. A tide of refugees marched towards the castle, shocked and terrified by the attack, holding each other close. As Harry and Cho were loaded onto one of the carriages, Stormfury took a final glance at the battlefield. _The dead will be avenged_, he promised himself, signalling the carriage on its way.

* * *

To say that Draco Malfoy was angry would be a gross understatement. The young pure-blood was utterly livid, his rage surging in waves, cresting within himself. It was a hot anger, like a forest fire consuming all in its path. He kept it below for the moment, suppressing the urge to throttle the unlucky bastard that dared to start with him. The moment would not be far off.

After the dust had settled, and the forces of the Light won the day, the Slytherins beat a hasty retreat to the dungeons, brooding and scheming. One of the greatest battles in recent wizarding history had been fought, and Voldemort had been defeated. All because of Potter and that Shadow Hunter, or so the local scuttlebutt went.

Malfoy held court within the Common Room, Crabbe, Goyle and a cadre of the toughest Slytherins standing guard. Parkinson and a dozen Slytherin girls draped themselves over chairs and sofas, comforting Malfoy and his co-conspirators over their loss. None of the plotters paid heed, however, speaking instead of revenge.

"My father is dead," Malfoy whispered to himself, his voice silky and menacing. "Someone is going to pay."

"Don't worry, Draco," Nott replied in a diplomatic tone, his hands shaking nervously. "We'll find whoever did it."

Crabbe snorted in disgust. "It was Potter, Draco. It musta been him!"

Immediately, Goyle smacked him in the back of the head. "Garn!" he snarled, spitting on a luxurious green carpet. "Potter couldn'ta do that. He's not strong enough, dumbarse!"

Crabbe whirled on Goyle, clenching a meaty fist. "Dumbarse yourself, you dirty wanker!" He punched Goyle solidly in the jaw, spittle flying as the blow landed. Goyle retaliated, launching a haymaker at his skull, and the two Slytherins went at it, beating and kicking, ignoring the uproar of the other Slytherins as they fought, spilling drinks and sending tables crashing to the floor.

Howling in frustration, Malfoy raised his wand. "_Dungeous Incarceros!_" Thick chains materialized out of thin air, wrapping themselves around Crabbe and Goyle, hoisting them above the Common Room, much to their dismay. Malfoy waved his wand once more, and the chains tightened, pulling in different directions, causing the two burly Slytherins to cry out in pain as their limbs began stretching.

"My father is DEAD!" Malfoy screamed, his pale face flushed red with anger. His grey eyes were enraged, and glared maddeningly at the Slytherin conspirators. "The greatest Malfoy that ever lived is dead. My father. He knew what was best for both Slytherin House and the wizarding world. 'Never trust a Mudblood,' he told me, and he was right. Granger and all of the other Mudbloods will _die_, exterminated like the vermin they are by the fury of the Dark Lord!"

Dark smiles broke out amongst the Slytherins, and several nodded in assent. Malfoy continued his ranting, growing more inflamed by the moment. "Potter will die too, along with Weasley and all of the other Muggle-loving fools. The death of my father will be paid in the blood of a thousand Muggles! The name Malfoy will be that of a martyr who fought to preserve his pure and noble culture. And a thousand mighty warriors will go into battle, screaming the name of Malfoy as they cull these creatures!"

As the Slytherins howled their approval, Malfoy pumped a fist into the air. "I am the Lord Malfoy now, and the blood of a thousand years of purest of purebloods runs through my veins. On the grave of my father, Potter will lie dead at my feet before this war is over!" he crowed, inciting a mighty roar from his assembled cronies.

Footsteps echoed from the hall, and a new voice entered the room. "Malfoy, I highly doubt that the teachers will approve of such talk," said the newcomer, his voice deep, yet amused.

"Corner," Malfoy hissed, raising his wand, watching the Head Boy with obvious contempt. All around him, the Slytherins raised their own wands, grumbling and cursing at the intruder. "It's against the rules for someone of a different House to visit this Common Room."

Michael gave a sharp whistle, and a dozen tough-looking Ravenclaws entered, their wands at the ready, each pointed at Malfoy's head. Corner smiled. "I'm the Head Boy, Malfoy, and as such, I can access any place in this castle, regardless of House. Besides, you're in no position to lecture me on the rules, especially considering that little tirade of yours." He cast a quick glance over the group of Slytherins, their eyes reflecting hatred. "Now, if you would please dismiss this rabble? We have to talk."

Seeing a dozen wands aimed at his skull, Malfoy has no choice but to comply. With a snap of his fingers and a wave of his hands, the Slytherins backed away, muttering mutinously under their breath. Corner did the same with his Ravenclaw supporters, as the two boys were left alone, each glaring daggers at each other. Malfoy spoke first, every syllable dripping with malice. "What is it, Corner? What do you want?"

"Chang," Michael replied, tracing his jawline with a rough finger. "You approached me at the beginning of the year, and offered me Cho Chang. In return, my men and I would join the Sons of Enigma and fight for your cause. We have fought, Malfoy. We have aided you in bringing terror to Gryffindor House. We were among you in the attack after the last Quidditch match. So, where is she?"

Malfoy snickered at his demands. "She's in the Hospital Wing, Corner. Go and take Potter's little bitch yourself."

The Head Boy's face grew red, and veins bulged along his temples. "Not good enough, Malfoy. You promised that you would bring her to my bed, alive and unharmed. The attack against her in the library was done by my Ravenclaws, not your followers. You've done nothing to secure your end of the bargain."

"She sleeps in Ravenclaw Tower," Malfoy spat, "why couldn't you take her there?"

Michael snorted in disgust at Malfoy's idiocy. "She sleeps with a sword at her bedside, you moron. Besides, the entire school would suspect us if we tried something like that."

The spoiled Slytherin began to chuckle, a most unpleasant sound. "You're willing to betray your House, your convictions, your heritage, all just to get a little arse from Cho Chang," he laughed, battering away at Corner's pride. "True, she has nice legs, but would never _debase_ myself to fucking an Asian whore on a regular basis…"

With a wild yell, Michael seized him by the throat, pushing him against the wall, his wand touching the boy's chest. The Ravenclaw's eyes were wild as he barked, "Don't you EVER talk about her that way, Malfoy! I'm doing this because Potter will lead her to ruin, she's suffered enough at the hands of that creep. And, once I'm done with Potter, our deal is off. And one last thing, Malfoy. If you even think about hurting her, I'll kill you. You got that?" Corner's chest heaved as he ranted, and he waited for Malfoy's response.

Malfoy chuckled. The other boy had won, for the moment. "Very well then. Go back to Ravenclaw Tower, and await further orders. When we move, you'll be right there beside us."

Corner left, tormented by countless questions and moral decisions. With a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold, he went back upstairs, ignoring the questioning glances of his troops, seeing only Cho in his mind.

* * *

Cho turned over the pillow, now drenched with her tears as she wept for her fallen Harry. The Hospital Wing was a pit of wounded moans and shrieks, the injured Aurors, townsfolk and students desperate for aid, the mass of causalities overwhelming the best efforts of Madam Pomfrey and the Auror medics.

On the bed beside her, an Auror gasped his last breath, comforted by one of his buddies, his hands covered in blood and dirt. His body battered beyond repair, a Gryffindor fourth-year cried silently for his parents, weeping scarlet tears. Four students had died at the hands of the Death Eaters, and six more had been badly wounded, not counting the Aurors and Order members who had fallen.

The castle was buzzing with shock and fear, the defensive wards brought up to full strength to counter an enemy assault. Suits of armour took on life of their own, patrolling the corridors with swords and halberds at the ready. Aurors stood watch on ramparts and within towers, inspecting the defences, prepared to repel any intrusion by Voldemort. Cho laughed silently to herself. _That's not what he'll do. He'll just let us stew for a while, make us afraid to leave this place_, she thought bitterly.

More tears fell, despite her efforts at control. _Oh, why am I so weak?_ she lamented, furious at her weeping. _Ginny was right, I'm just a little cryb-_ She stopped herself as the tears flowed, risking a glance at Harry's bed. The fallen Champion was been attended by Pomfrey herself, salves, potions, concoctions, and ointments slathered on his blackened chest. The Matron swore under her breath as she applied powerful healing charms to Harry, only to see them fade against his skin. The curse was still there, still affecting Harry's body, nullifying the efforts to heal him. A startling realization came over Cho. _He's not going to make it._

Hurriedly, Cho got out of the hospital bed, covers thrown aside as she ran over to Harry, shoving past Aurors and Order members to reach him. "Let me help," she pleaded with Madam Pomfrey, staring at the elderly woman intensely.

Pomfrey shook her head. "Ms, Chang, you have just gone through a terrible ordeal!" she reminded the Ravenclaw beauty, moving to shoo her away. "And right now, we need room to work on Mr. Potter. He's in critical condition, and it would be helpful if you would let us work!"

Cho whirled on the nurse with rage in her eyes. "I'm studying to be a Healer, Madam," she spat, her anger rousing the energies of Ravenclaw. "And right now, quite frankly, you need all the help you can get." She gestured to the beds, full of the wounded and the maimed.

"I will not be addressed in that tone, young woman!" Pomfrey shouted, the colour bleached from her face in surprise. "Especially not when so many people depend on our services! Seeing as how you seem fit for release, I will give you ten seconds to vacate the Hospital Wing, before-"

The trilling melody sent shivers up Cho's spine, then left her soul at peace, the energies of Ravenclaw dying down almost immediately. The moans of pain faded away, as a brightly coloured bird flew into the Hospital Wing, its fiery tail feathers giving it a distinct appearance. Uttering a final few notes, it landed gently by the girl's side, looking at her with piercing blue eyes, red plumage as soft as down. "A phoenix," Cho whispered, gazing at the bird in adoration. _Harry mentioned something about a phoenix once…_ "Maybe its tears can help!" she shrieked, overjoyed at the presence of her new avian friend.

Fawkes bowed, and leaned over Harry's bedside, a single crystal teardrop emerging from the corner of its eye. It fell, landing on Harry's chest with a small splash, and instantly, the darkness faded. The monstrous scab that covered his body vanished, blackened and crusted skin becoming pink and healthy once more. Cho breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the fates for this miracle. She looked down at his chest, expecting to see him fully restored.

Something was wrong. The physical damage had faded, but something foul still remained. The blood vessels inside Harry's chest were black, visible on the surface of his skin, pulsating and dark. Additional phoenix tears fell on the affected area, but instead of disappearing, the shadow grew stronger, repelling their effects. The breath caught in Cho's throat. _No…_

Moving quickly, Madam Pomfrey gathered more of the tears into a small vial, then dribbled it down Harry's throat, the heavenly liquid rushing through his body, cleansing his bloodstream. But when the last of the tears were consumed, the blackness still remained.

"It's a poison, Ms. Chang," Pomfrey explained, her hands trembling, "a dark poison that not even phoenix tears can purge. My knowledge of necromancy is limited, but I fear that the tears can only slow its spread, not stop it."

"What happens if it is not stopped?" Cho asked, already knowing the answer. "What will happen if it continues?"

"Harry will die, Ms. Chang. I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do," the elderly Healer answered, shuffling away to help other patients. "Fawkes can help these poor people, but not Harry."

Cho's world came crashing down on her, and her mind was smothered by fear, stifling fear, threatening to consume her. She wept openly, wishing her tears could be of some use. _But they're not. They're just the sign of a weakling_. "What about St. Mungo's?" she demanded, grasping for the thin straw. "Maybe their Healers can help? Maybe they have a potion, a spell, anything!" Her agile Ravenclaw mind went into overdrive, as she struggled for a solution, every ounce of brainpower working on a solution.

The thumping sound of wood on stone intruded her thoughts as Mad-eye Moody entered, looking even more frazzled than usual. "I'm afraid that's out of the question, Chang," he said gruffly, a wrinkled hand placed on her shoulder.

"Why?" Cho squeaked, her fingernails digging into Moody's arms, grip determined. "Why not?"

"Voldemort didn't just strike Hogsmeade, he attacked over a dozen communities across England, both magical and Muggle," the ex-Auror told her, his enchanted blue eye boring through her soul. "Hundreds dead in total. The Death Eaters had Dementors, giants, trolls, necromancers. They struck Yorkshire, Coventry, Perth. The Aurors barely responded, and now the causalities are pouring into St. Mungo's. The Healers can barely keep up, let alone help someone in this bad a shape. Fudge has issued a press statement calling for calm; all the while he's got an entire regiment of Aurors guarding his office door. Magical England is under marshal law."

Gasps and cries met his declaration. "It gets better," Moody growled sarcastically. "The Death Eaters attacked villages in France, Germany, even the United States. In short, the Dark Lord caught us with our pants down, and now we're on the defensive." He paused for a moment, the next few words ominous and stern. "We're on our own."

Her vision swam before her eyes, and Cho fell to her knees, dumbstruck, horrified. The tide of despair that threatened to breach her psyche washed over her, and she broke down, the tears flowing openly. The energies of Ravenclaw responded to her grief, rising and building up. _Harry's dying. The light is fading. Hope fails, and I cannot fight this_, she thought, her frame quaking with sorrow.

Suddenly, rage struck like an arrow, pounding in Cho's brain. She stood up, trembling with anger, her newfound powers barely contained. "Get me my sword," she ordered, chocolate-brown eyes as hard as stone. When no one responded, she screamed, "Get IT!" flickers of blue flame emerging on her fingertips.

The sudden outburst galvanized Moody into action. Rushing from the Hospital Wing, he returned several minutes later, totally out of breath, a razor-sharp katana in his hands.

Seizing the hilt, Cho drew out the polished blade, the torchlight glimmering against the fine-forged Japanese steel. Her voice was cold as she said, "Voldemort has lived long enough. The Ministry be damned, I'll hunt him down and kill him!" Fire burned in her eyes, the sword held in a menacing grip. "Tell the Army of the Marauders to assemble in the Room of Requirement, and get ready to fight. It is _not_ going to end this way; we're not finished yet. And should I face the Dark Lord, rest assured, he will die by my hand." She paused, looking over at Harry's still form. "He's depending on us."

As the Healers went about their duties, Cho planted a soft kiss on Harry's forehead. "I'm not going to abandon you," she said softly, sheathing the sword, buckling the leather scabbard at her side. She traced his cheek with a gentle caress. "I won't fail you now, Harry."

The energies of Ravenclaw jumped in the pit of her stomach, a cooling sensation, tranquil and soothing. They built up suddenly, then faded again, vanishing like dust in the wind. Cho froze for a moment, expecting another burst of power, but nothing.

It was…different. The energies reacted differently, calm instead of mindless, passive inside of aggressive. And, deep down inside her, Cho realized that she had no idea as to the full extent of its power, no clue as to what she could unleash…

* * *

The bottle of Firewhisky was surprisingly light in Neville's hands as he took another sip, the harsh drink burning a trail down his throat and into his gut. He raised the bottle skywards, as if in a toast. "Here's to you, Mom and Dad," Neville declared drunkenly, tears staining his grubby face. The alcohol sloshed in its glass prison as he drank some more of the concoction, numbing his senses. "Here's to you for raising such a coward."

He wept bitterly at his failure. He could have gone into the heart of the enemy forces, challenged Lestrange, killed the murdering bitch were she stood. He could have avenged his parents. Instead, he had slunk back home with the others. Even worse, he had allowed that Death Eater to seize Luna.

_Luna!_ he mused, utterly depressed. Tangled hair, soft curves, blue-green eyes filled with warmth and life, her heart compassionate and kind…He needed her, more than anything in his life. There were other girls, each beautiful in their own way. Hermione, with her quick wit and brilliant brown eyes. Ginny, with her large breasts and tight buttocks, all well developed for her age. Then there was Cho, an angel amongst women, her charming personality and huge smarts just as attractive as her full bosom, her shining hair, her long legs…Neville smacked himself mentally for thinking that. _I'm not that drunk so as to hit on Cho!_ he screamed at himself. She was beautiful, but she was happy with Harry. Besides, he had his eye on Luna.

The familiar ache centred between his legs throbbed again, more powerful than ever, as he imagined of her. Her body encased in skin-tight fabric, walking up to him, a wicked smile on her lips, every marvellous aspect of her body visible, begging him to love her…Unconsciously, Neville blushed red, waging an inner battle with his lusts. _Damn you, Neville Longbottom, a few sips of Firewhisky and you're a lecherous bastard. What's next, sneaking into the Ravenclaw girl's dorm and watching them undress? What would Gran say?_

Neville was the symbol of teenage rebelliousness in the moment. When Dumbledore ordered the students back to their Common Rooms, he had went down to the kitchens instead. He stole a bottle of Firewhisky from behind one of the paintings. Fred and George's secret stash, he presumed. They wouldn't need it now.

He started to cry as he thought of the disaster at Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione, missing. Harry and Cho, up in the hospital wing, along with the other wounded. He had even heard a rumour that Cho had been taken prisoner during the battle, then managed to fight free. _Nah, that can't be right, Cho's pretty tough, and Harry wouldn't let anything happen to her_, he thought, gulping down more of the brew. A terrible thought struck him. _Maybe Harry didn't survive?_ The idea was too horrible to contemplate, and Neville shoved the thought away. With an angst-ridden scream, he hurled the bottle of Firewhisky to the floor, the golden-brown liquid seeping through the cracks in the floor. "I love her," he whispered to the silence. "I love her."

"Love whom, Neville?"

Neville turned around, utterly shocked to see Luna Lovegood standing at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, wearing a puzzled expression. Her usual radish earrings hung from her gentle lobes, and she had changed back into her Hogwarts uniform, the Ravenclaw emblem on her chest. Her sea-blue eyes stared at Neville, so deep that he might drown in them, lost forever in her. "What's the matter, Neville?" she asked, her voice heavenly on the boy's ears.

The clumsy Gryffindor blushed furious, wringing his hands together. "Uh, nothing, Luna. You should head up to your dorm now," he lied, trying to keep his eyes off of her chest, accented by the Hogwarts uniform.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Luna replied, walking up to him. "Why won't you talk about it?" She reeled back, catching the scent of whisky on his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

The room was silent for a moment, then Neville began to weep, a horrible sound, filled with regret and guilt. Luna watched, horrified, as Neville slumped down to the floor, his head in his hands. The young Ravenclaw put her arms around him, cooing sweetly into his ear. "Tell me, Neville."

Neville took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of oranges in her hair. "I'm a coward, Luna, I'm a yellow-bellied coward. I'm scared of fighting, scared of Snape, scared of the Slytherins, scared of girls, scared of my friends dying. During the attack, I thought I saw Lestrange there, but I was too scared to fight her. I let the Death Eater that tortured my parents go free," he confessed, crying openly now, blue eyes filled with sorrow. "I should have stayed behind to defend Harry, but I ran! I ran, Luna, and now Harry's in the Hospital Wing, and Cho's going to lose him. How can I face her, knowing that I could have protected them? How can I face the girl my best friend loves?"

Luna's words caught in her throat as she cradled him. _He's really loyal to Harry,_ she realized, brushing away a stray tear, winding its way down his face. "Neville, you would have been killed if you tried. There was nothing else you could have done," she whispered, trying to reassure him. "You're not a coward. You fought with the DA and protected a lot of people!"

"They tried to rape Cho!" Neville screamed. "They tried to rape her and kill Harry, and I wasn't there for them. What if they did succeeded? Worse, what if they took you?"

Instantly, Neville blushed red, stuttering and mumbling under his breath, trying to take it back. "What I meant to say was, um-"

"Why are you afraid of me?" Luna asked, a hint of anger coming into her tone. "Why do you always become tongue-tied whenever we talk? You can never look me in the eye! Is it because of the Quibbler? Because I'm in Ravenclaw? Do you just think of me as Loony Lovegood, like everyone else?"

Totally flustered, Neville tried to respond. "No, Luna, it's not that! I don't think of you like that! It's just…"

"Just _what_?" Luna demanded, clenching her fists, becoming frustrated beyond belief. "Am I some kind of hag? Do you not respect me, because I don't dress in short skirts or hav-" She stopped, dumbstruck, a look of horror coming over her face. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…You can't talk to me because you like me."

"Yes," he croaked, shocked by her lack of horror or surprise as she reached the answer. "Luna, you're a really great girl. Me, I'm just some loser. I'm not good enough for you."

"Neville," she whispered, her heart confused by his response. "Don't think that way. I'm not Parvati or Lavender or any of those other girls who turn down a guy just because they feel he's not worthy of them. I'm not a model for _Enchantress Weekly_." She was talking so fast now; she had to pause for breath, her eyes cool and pitiful. "You're scared of me because you feel I won't accept you. Correct?"

Bitter tears burned in the corner of Neville's eye as he nodded. "I'm not worthy of you, Luna. I can't protect you, or ask you out, or make you feel special."

There was silence for a moment, then Luna released him, her voice soft, yet unyielding. "Lie down."

"Excuse me?" Neville pondered, before Luna's soft hands landed on his shoulders, gently pushing him against the floor. "What th-"

Luna placed a hand over his lips, whispering softly, "I will help you become unafraid of me." Slowly, her head moved towards him, ever so slowly, eyes reflecting desire and warmth. "Neville," she moaned, her thin pink lips brushing against his own in a gentle kiss. It was brief, but lingering, a kiss of love and fulfillment. They broke apart, Neville blushing like the sunset, while Luna eyed him coyly. "Am I moving too fast for you?"

In a swift motion, Neville seized her wrists, and flipped her over onto the stone floor, her sweet body trapped beneath him. "Not nearly fast enough!" he cried, kissing her passionately, wildly, tasting mangoes on her lips. She responded with equal abandon, her hands reaching for the clasp of her cloak, casting it aside. They kissed for what seemed like an age, both totally inexperienced, but enjoying it all the same.

Finally, the kiss ended, and Luna snuggled up in Neville's embrace, laying her head on his shoulders, their arms wrapped around each other. "Neville," she whispered, "will you be my dance to the Ball?"

The bold Gryffindor chuckled. "Of course. I'm not afraid anymore."

* * *

The Dark Mark burned black, a startling contrast to Severus Snape's ghostly pale skin. The sullen Potions Master winced as it flared; smouldering just like the day he had received the hellish brand. "He's happy. Joyful even, considering what's happened."

Stormfury knelt closer to his wrist, examining the Mark with a critical eye. "When did you say this started again?"

"Just after the Death Eaters attacked. It was burning so fiercely that I almost dropped my wand."

Dumbledore frowned at this pronouncement. "The Mark is more than just a symbol. It's an extension of Voldemort's being, placed on his followers to ensure their control. Severus, when Tom rose again during the Tri-Wizard tournament, did the Mark react similarly?"

Snape nodded, his grease-slicked hair covered with dust from the battle. "Yes. Although, it's much stronger now, meaning one of a few things. First, he is pleased with the raid, and the Mark is reflecting his joy. Second, he is unhappy with the performance of his forces, and the Mark is demonstrating his rage."

"What's the third?" Stormfury asked, realizing the answer a split-second later. "He's grown stronger."

"Perhaps," came the Potion Master's deadpan response. "However, we would have seen some sign of it before, if that was the case."

Dumbledore sighed, a depressing sound. "Good work, Severus. Now, if you please, return to the dungeons, and start sending additional potions up to Madam Pomfrey. She'll need them to help the wounded."

Snape glowered with anger. "Right away, Headmaster."

As the Potions Master left, Stormfury turned to the elderly Headmaster. "I don't trust him at all, Dumbledore. The stench of dark magic still lingers on him. Can he be trusted?" he asked, spitting on the floor.

"Daelin, I hold Severus in the highest respect," Dumbledore answered the big Shadow Hunter, his voice calm and cool. "He has risked his life for us in the past, and I do not doubt his faith in our cause."

Stormfury clenched the hilt of his sword with scarred fingers. "There are many in the Shadow Hunters who feel that Dark wizards can never be trusted, even if they repent their crimes," he growled, his voice dripping with malice. "He'd watch himself, if I were him."

"Peace, Daelin, peace," Dumbledore pleaded with him, holding up his hands in warning. "Do not act rashly. Go to the walltops, and inspect the Auror defences. I shall be addressing the students soon. Go, attend to your duties."

The Shadow Hunter stood for a moment, then marched away, cursing under his breath, jaw clenched tight with anger. Dumbledore watched him go, blue eyes filled with worry. _Daelin is a great man, but I fear that he shall become more self-destructive as time goes on. The appearance of the necromancer has changed him, and I must ensure that he is in control of his abilities, for the sake of the students_.

"Headmaster!" came the shriek, as Madam Hooch flew up beside the rampart, her normally cool expression panicky and flushed. She gripped her broom tightly as she related the news. "I was flying cover over the grounds, looking for any kind of intrusion."

"And?" Dumbledore inquired, his blood running cold as he looked into the Flying Instructor's eyes.

Hooch blinked back tears. "I saw prisoners, Albus, being marched through one of the old paths through the forest. Prisoners, including Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley."

For the briefest of moments, the kindly old Headmaster paused, considering the situation. When he spoke, his voice was as determined and strong as the greatest warrior, boosting Hooch's confidence. "Prepare the Order for battle. We shall enter the Forest, and retrieve our missing young ones," he ordered, eyes filled with righteousness. "And should Tom seek to stand in our way, he must face _me_ to succeed."

* * *

Hermione winced in agony as the Death Eater dropped her upon the snowy ground, a small rock bruising her side. Voldemort's servants were not kind to their captives, and she had been thrown to her knees more than once. _That's probably the least they'll do to us_, she reminded herself, the cold talons of fear gripping her heart. _Oh, please, Harry, please be safe. Don't come and find us._

Craning her neck, Hermione turned to look at Ron. The red-haired Gryffindor was being dragged along by a grumbling Death Eater, his forehead caked with blood. The Death Eater had struck him over the head with a quick blow as they were ambushed. Hermione fought back bravely, hexing two Death Eaters before she was overwhelmed, her black-robed assailants pounding her into submission. They had been trussed up and carried on the backs of the vile servants of Voldemort, being hauled off to some destination unknown.

Hermione moaned into the gag, feeling where the Death Eaters had struck her. Her body ached from the harsh ministrations of Voldemort's followers, and she moaned again as the Death Eater struck her, his fist bruising a rib. She began to weep, ever so softly, imagining what they would do to her. Torture. Rape. Interrogation. They would question her about the prophecy, again and again, using curses and knives when she couldn't answer. They would rape her, steal her purity, make her cry out for mercy as she was ravaged, her sex torn and bloodied. Better she die then let that happen.

After all, she was a Mudblood, wasn't she? A kind of wizard Voldemort considered less than vermin. Hermione resolved, then and there, she wasn't going to die that way. She would die a Gryffindor, standing proud and undaunted amongst her enemies. She would die to protect Harry. And Ron. Sweet, noble Ron.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the captives were thrown to the snow, exhausted beyond belief. Death Eaters removed their gags, then moved on to other duties. Hermione's brown eyes looked around with fear as she saw where they were. Ancient and twisted oaks surrounded the clearing, their knots and roots taking on strange designs. Death Eaters grumbled as they conjured dry wood, setting campfires, and pitching tents. Many of them laughed over their accomplishments during the battle, describing with glee how they tortured students or murdered Hogsmeade villagers. The quick-witted Gryffindor watched as the other prisoners were chained together, hauled off deeper into the camp. _Voldemort has a base inside the Forest!_ she realized, struggling against the rotten hemp that bound her wrists behind her. _Is he planning to attack Hogwarts? Is he looking for Harry, even? What could he possibly be doing here?_

"Ron! Ron!" she whispered, crawling over to the stricken Gryffindor, wriggling like a worm to reach him, hobbled. "Ron! Wake up!"

Slowly, Ron opened his eyes, looking at her groggily. "That's the last time I go to a play," he muttered, smiling at her with chapped lips. "Are you okay?" he asked, slowly shaking himself from his stupor.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, for the moment," she replied, straining against her bonds. "They took our wands, though, and we're hogtied. Can you move?"

Taking a deep breath, Ron tried flexing his wrists, pulling in opposite directions. After a few moments, he shook his head, sweat running down. "Afraid not, 'Mione, they're too well done." He looked at her with sheer panic, fearing the worst. "Have you been raped?"

"No, thank God, no," Hermione answered, moving closer to him, trembling with fear and chill. "If we don't find a way out soon, don't bet against it."

Ron's eyes burned with rage as he looked around at the Death Eaters. "If a single one of them touches you, I'll bloody murder them!" he hissed in a low tone, glaring with unrelenting hatred. His hair caked with blood, the youngest of the Weasley sons was still defiant, still unbroken. "Have you seen Ginny, or Harry, or Cho?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not since we got separated," she said, tears running down her cheeks. "Oh, Ron, what if Harry tries to find us? Voldemort will use us as bait to get him. He'll move heaven and earth to find us, and Voldemort will be waiting for him!" She cried openly now, tears of regret mixing with new-fallen snow. "Ron, we have to get out of here and warn him!"

Ron shuffled closer to her, letting her head rest onto his shoulders, honey-brown curls tickling his nose. "Harry's been through worse than this, 'Mione," he tried to reassure her. "Remember when you were Petrified, and Ginny had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets? Harry saved her, saved us, saved Hogwarts. He'll come through now."

Slowly, Hermione began to calm down, looking into Ron's blue eyes, filled with care and affection. She shivered beneath her wool sweater, shifting right up to Ron's face, the heat of their bodies keeping them warm. Gulping nervously, Ron kissed her forehead, feeling ivory skin beneath his lips. "Uh, 'Mione, there's something I've b-"

"_Crucio!_" The two Gryffindors screamed as the curse slammed into them, the pain of a thousand hot knives overloading their senses, setting their nerves aflame. Hermione screamed in agony until her lungs were empty, her high-pitched cries a source of great amusement for the Death Eaters, who laughed and cheered as it continued. Finally, the spell faded, and Hermione looked into the blood-red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled at the sight of Harry's friends writhing in agony. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, it's hardly Valentine's Day yet. As much as my Death Eaters like to see a show, having a Mudblood and a Weasley make love is more than they can stomach," he said, matter-of-factly.

Hermione rose up to her knees, facing him, caught in equal parts anger and fear. "There's not a lot those sorry excuses for wizards can't handle," she spat, foolish bravado rising to the fore.

Voldemort applied the Cruciatus once again, hearing Hermione shriek in pain. "How ironic, coming from a Mudblood," he said, gazing at his captives, his face a gauze mask. "It's a shame that Lucius couldn't have taught you some discipline, girl. He was always very fond of you, for reasons I will never be able to comprehend. Unfortunately, he was in the process of entertaining a very lovely Asian girl at the time of his demise."

"Cho?" Hermione gasped in shock, squirming away from the Dark Lord. "Malfoy is dead? Serves the bastard right."

"Followers are always disposable, especially if they have an heir," Voldemort responded, his voice as cerebral as ever. "In the end, only myself and power are irreplaceable. But enough of this. Tell me the prophecy."

"The prophecy was destroyed!" Ron shouted, gritting his teeth. "None of us know what it is, it's gone."

"Oh, really?" Voldemort inquired, motioning a red-masked Death Eater forward. "Asmodeus, my humble servant, demonstrate to Mr. Weasley the importance of this prophecy."

"_Crucio!_" Ron fell screaming, engulfed in absolute pain. Asmodeus stood over Ron, delivering a harsh kick to his ribs. "Tell us what it is, you Muggle-loving traitor!" the First Death Eater roared, drawing a cruel blade, the golden hilt glittering in the cold sun. He grabbed Hermione by the hair, ignoring her cries, placing the blade at her throat. "Tell!"

Ron choked and spat blood onto the snow. "Please, I don't know, I don't know. Don't hurt her, I don't know," he pleaded, his voice weak and shaky. "Don't hurt Hermione, I beg you. I don't have anything to tell you."

The Dark Lord waved Asmodeus aside, the red of his eyes eerie against his pale skin. "Perhaps I will just look and see."

Immediately, pain like never before swept through Ron's mind, worming through every crevice, analysing his memories, seeking, hunting, feasting…

_"He was three, and the twins decided to prank him. A charmed rubber spider was thrown onto his sleeping form, jarring him awake, the dancing arachnid an image burned into his brain, crawling spiders, their eyes beady and black..."_

_"He was in second year, looking over Hermione's bedside, tears springing forth as he saw her Petrified by the Basilisk, when he realized he loved her..."_

_"He was in Umbridge's office, taken prisoner by the Inquisitorial Squad. Malfoy traced the line of Ginny's neck with his wand, eying the curves of her body, and he knew he had to act..."_

_"He was in Diagon Alley, listening Harry talk about his love for Cho, his own heart burning red-hot with rage, for deceiving them like this, for siding with a traitor..."_

The probing withdrew, and Ron slumped to the ground, every bit of resistance shattered in the face of Voldemort's power. He felt awful, soiled, raped by the mental intrusion, his mind battered by the telepathic blow. Beside him, Hermione was in similar straits, gasping with tortured breaths, her body shaking after the ordeal. "He knows Occlumency," she wheezed, temples aching. "He's searching our thoughts, searching for the prophecy."

"Five points to Gryffindor, Ms. Granger," Voldemort replied drolly, waving his wand about him. "Yes, but that is but the barest beginnings of my power, and the power I shall receive. St. Potter has no idea of what I'm about to discover. He'll come looking for you, and when he does, he will die." The Dark Lord's voice rose to a crescendo, reflecting the twisted wizard's power. "His life and soul will be a sacrifice to Lord Kharadion, a gift to the lords of Chaos. And I shall take my place as ruler of this world, emissary of the Dark Gods, and all humanity shall _tremble_ before my coming!"

The Death Eaters roared their approval, and Asmodeus smiled behind his mask. "What shall we do with the prisoners, my lord?"

Voldemort gestured over to Ron and Hermione, his eyes filled with cruelty. "It appears that Mr. Weasley has some feelings for the Mudblood, hmm? Always willing to save the damsel in distress? Wanting to be the hero?"

"Up yours," Ron spat, receiving a brutal kick to the ribs for his trouble.

"Asmodeus," the Dark Lord ordered, "give Mr. Weasley his chance at fame. After you're finished with them, contact Isolde and Ulric, and bring them here. If Potter wants to meet us, then let's introduce him to the guests."

"NO!" Hermione screamed, rushing forward, only to be seized by Asmodeus. "You can't kill him!"

The red-masked Death Eater snarled, slapping her a few times. "Don't worry, we'll save some for you."

* * *

Night had begun to fall. The cold north wind whispered through the halls of the castle, its frigid touch like a hand reaching out from the grave. The students stayed inside their dormitories, fearing the break of a new dawn, while Dumbledore's Army assembled in the Room of Requirement, eager for battle and revenge. The tide was turning, and the world needed its heroes more desperately then ever. It needed the Champions.

Cho watched Harry's sleeping form with tired eyes, worn out by the day's events. She, Madam Pomfrey, Fawkes and the Auror medics and managed to save most of the wounded. Now, she was alone with Harry in a sequestered part of the Hospital Wing, seeing the dark poison spread through his veins like a midnight creep. Phoenix tears had managed to heal most of the physical damage, and slow the growth of the poison, but it still remained, a twisted blight in the Champion's body. Cho wept, her soul exhausted and strained, seeing him like this. _Please, Harry, I need you. Don't die._

It felt like she had no more tears left to shed, but she cried again, her grief escaping in gentle sobs. When Cedric died, she felt as if her heart had been torn out, and only Harry's love had managed to restore it. This was a hundred times worse, watching him slowly waste away, dying in agony…She blinked back tears, feeling the energies of Ravenclaw flare again. _Why does it keep doing this?_ she wondered, hearing it pulse steadily in soul.

Then she knew the answer. Even after the energies of Ravenclaw sparked, she felt something else about them, something different. Not the raging force that scythed through the Dementors like rotten wheat, but something cool, something calm, something dark. Another aspect, one she was only beginning to understand.

Finally, the answer came to her like a strike of divine lightning. Hurriedly, she laid down on Harry's body, soft hands touching the dark fibres that ran through his chest. She took a deep breath, muttering a quick prayer. _Please, let this work. Please, let him live. For in the entire world, he is my only care. I love him._ She repeated that as her mantra, trying to tap the power that flowed through her blood. _I love Harry. I love Harry._

Soft blue light blossomed on Cho's fingers, yet she continued, building up the power, tasting its warmth. _I love Harry_, Cho repeated, envisioning his kindness, caring, bravely and nobility, how he would sacrifice everything for her, how he loved her totally, how he defended her from all manner of harm. _I love him fully, without restraint_, she continued. _He was with me when I need him the most, and know he needs me. Please, let this work. I love you, Harry._

_Live, Harry! Exit the darkness and return to the light!_

Blue fire exploded all around them, whirling and twirling like a raging cyclone. Power radiated in every cell of her body, and her synapses raced with mind-blowing speed. Her soul sang with energy, and Cho screamed, exhilarated, super-charged with magic. With all the control she could muster, she sent the fire into Harry's body, burning through his veins, cauterizing the dark energies, dispelling them instantly. Finally, it ceased, and Cho flopped onto his chest, drained from the use of her magic. "Harry," she moaned softly, before the darkness closed in around her…


	16. A Destiny of Flame and Sorrow

**Chapter 16: A Destiny of Flame and Sorrow**

Power. The Dark Lord Voldemort had existed for nearly sixty years, in one form or another, and even since his days in Hogwarts, he desired power above all things. From the moment he opened up the Chamber of Secrets, he was addicted to its sweet taste, like the finest French wine. It only got better with age.

He had found power in many places. The tomes in the Hogwarts library slaked his thirst, only temporarily. Then came the Chamber of Secrets, the power of the Heir of Slytherin, the ability of Parseltongue, to communicate with all manner of snakes, even the Great Wyrm, the Serpent of Slytherin, the basilisk. But then came a time where he could not open the ancient vault, with Dumbledore watching over him intently. He needed power.

Graduating from that accursed castle, he roamed around the world, wasting his talents at firstas a petty hedge-wizard, consorting with the lowest scum in wizardkind.He studied the Dark Arts, learning its eccentricities, its intricate design, its raging power. He gained immense magical might, enough to terrorize the entire world, bring legions of loyal Death Eaters under his sway. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

But now, at last, he was almost there. The age-old dream of one Thomas Marvolo Riddle was close at hand, a bargain that would be paid in the blood of millions.

_To defy death._

Voldemort looked around the camp, blood-red eyes observing his followers, the force that would crush Potter and the Order of the Phoenix into dust. Several dozen Death Eaters stood in the clearing, eager for the taste of battle, while flights of Dementors circled overhead. The force was small, but it would be enough. While the majority of his warriors secured Hell Pit and launched their raids deep into Ministry territory, these troops would be the hammer-blow that would finish Potter once and for all.

Asmodeus stood motionless beside his lord, the mask of the First Death Eater shining in the torchlight. "My lord, we are ready. The trap is set. Our forces are in position. We only await your word to strike the castle."

"Unfortunately, such an attack is not possible, my servant," Voldemort replied, blood boiling, furious with his inability to attack Hogwarts directly. All this power as the Dark Lord, and the hated edifice still beyond his grasp! "The defensive wards covering that place are powerful, and not even my magic can force them. Dumbledore mocks me. He knows that we can tear him apart if he ventures outside the protective barrier, so he chooses to stay hidden. Greatest wizard in the world, pagh!" he spat, his spittle green and mucus-filled.

"Then we must draw him out, my Lord, like a spider draws in a fly. Dumbledore may be a Muggle-lover, but he is no fool. He will not risk harm to his school, despite the presence of the wards. He will not allow an enemy force to sit on his doorstep and threaten the students, waiting to pounce. No, my Lord, he will come," Asmodeus declared with a feral smile. "And when he does, he will fall."

"What of the vampires and werewolves?"

"Lady Isolde and Ulric shall be here within the hour, my Lord. The conditions are ripe for them, the moon shall be full, and the night is dark. The full power of our allies can be brought to bear against Potter and Dumbledore."

_Potter_, Voldemort thought, scaled hands resting on his chin. _How many times has the boy eluded me? Thwarted my grand designs? Stood in the way of my might? No longer._ The Dark Lord's voice was quivering with anticipation as he questioned Asmodeus, "Are you certain that Potter will come?"

Asmodeus nodded reverently, his cold steel blades glimmering in the fading light. "We have his friends, my Lord. We have killed his classmates and ravaged their town. Potter is hot-blooded, impetuous, and rash," he sneered. "He will seek revenge for what we have done, and his misguided sense of honour will demand that he rescue Weasley and Granger. He will come with an army at his back, or come alone. Either way, he will come, and against our combined forces, he will fall easily. Even he cannot stand against the Weeping Blades of the Nagarythe."

Voldemort paused and considered his lieutenant's advice, his cunning mind determining the next course of action. Yes, Potter would come; the capture of his best friends would ensure that. The Dark Lord chuckled for a moment, recalling how he had used a vision of Sirius Black to lure the boy out before. In his haste to rescue the rogue Animagus, Potter had only brought his death. How ironic. Even despite that experience, he was utterly sure that Potter would come to the rescue once more, disregarding any consequence to save the two Gryffindors.

However, the events of Hogsmeade had starkly outlined the boy's potential for destruction. According to his minions, Potter had killed Lucius Malfoy and four other Death Eaters in the space of a few moments, without pity, without remorse. The consistently annoying Gryffindor had then set about trying to destroy the rest of the attackers, blasting dozens of Death Eaters and undead with his strange magiks, before being incapacitated by Rodolphus Lestrange. _At least his death was worth something._ While Potter had been badly injured, Voldemort was certain that the Boy-who-Lived would recover, and live to fight against him.

Momentarily, Voldemort flirted with the idea of convincing Potter to join his side, but decided against it. These new magiks that Potter possessed were obviously of Light origin, and Riddle knew the boy would not forget their past history. No, Potter would die, a slow and painful death preferably, and the Dark Lord would ascend to greater glories.

_He's becoming like me. He's learning to kill. Slowly, he's crossing over. Who would have thought it, Dumbledore's Golden Boy taking another life?_

Power. He needed more. He needed to make sure Potter was dead, for sure this time. _Kharaidon!_ he bellowed from the depths of his soul. _Long have I served you! Tonight, you will send your servants to my aid!_

Facing Asmodeus once more, he ordered, "Send for the Nagarythe, and prepare the prisoners for a summoning ritual. The Lord Kharadion will bring us victory tonight, and not even Harry Potter can stand against the forces of Chaos. Now, leave me, I do not wish to be disturbed."

Bowing low, Asmodeus directed the Death Eaters away, the cries of the captives echoing through the night as they were dragged to a nearby copse. Voldemort, meanwhile, was elsewhere, readying his mind, his powers of Legimency forming, growing strong. The world faded around the Dark Lord as he uttered the incantation, his temples flaring with power. _Potter! _came his mental scream. _Where are you?_

Time ceased, and the dark echoes of Voldemort's brain pulsated, instinctively seeking the telepathic link forged that dark night, seventeen years ago. The boy had been left with just a scar, while he had been banished from his mortal body, forced into some demented half-life, starved from the lack of power, slowly going insane…Before the boy died, he would let him live that experience, of wasting away, unable to taste the power of magic…

Pain flooded his senses as the boy unconsciously fought back, his training in Occlumency surging forth in response to Voldemort's intrusion. The resistance lasted for only a brief moment, and the blockage was shattered. Like the Angel of Death, Voldemort crept into Harry's mind, and saw _exactly_ what he was looking for.

…_a raven-haired girl, her bright smile warming his heart, the taste of strawberries on full lips, the soothing tone of her voice washing away all of his troubles…_

…_the Shadow Hunter, giving a grunt of approval as the boy completed the technique, cutting out the throat of the illusionary Death Eater, enchanted blood spilling onto the cold marble…_

…_a woman's voice, soft and gentle, declaring his birthright, his power, his destiny…"In the second conflict against the Dark Lord, four champions will arise from the castle of the white-beard…"_

The link faded, and Voldemort stood back in the Forbidden Forest, a smile on his lipless mouth. "Four Champions of Hogwarts," he mused, crimson eyes twinkling with delight. "Harry Potter, the Champion of Gryffindor! Come and face me! Regardless of what the prophecy says, I am the true Heir of Slytherin! Do you seek to end me, boy? Do you seek to fight the Dark Gods themselves! Soon, the gifts of Chaos will be mine, and your entire pathetic bloodline will be consumed by the shadow!"

* * *

"Wake up, my child." The voice was soothing and peaceful, its soft tone washing away all of Cho's worries. It would be so good to sleep, just for a little while… "Wake up, Cho," the voice asked again, more insistent this time. "Wake."

Slowly, Cho awoke, her almond-shaped eyes looking around the room, analyzing the ambience, totally different than when she fell asleep. The Hospital Wing was gone, replaced with a bedchamber of unimaginable luxury. Torches burned from wall sconces, releasing a sweet honey scent that permeated the room. Exquisite tapestries hung on the walls, and brightly coloured rugs covered the stone floors, tickling her bare feet. Rising up, she looked at the large four-poster bed, the mattress stuffed with the softest goose down feathers, covered with silk sheets bearing the emblem of a bronze raven. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, and she could hear the trilling melody of birdsong from outside. _Where am I?_ she wondered to herself, running a hand through her hair, feeling soft cotton on her skin. A quick check confirmed that she was wearing a sky-blue dress, the design and fabric like something out of the Middle Ages. _Is it possible?_

Quickly, the young Champion hurried to the window, gazing at the blue waters of the lake, purple-mottled tentacles rising from its clear depths, waving to the robed figures by the shore, basking in the summer sun. "I'm still in Hogwarts."

"The Hogwarts as I remembered it."

Cho whirled around, stunned by the sudden appearance of the newcomer. "Who are you?" she demanded, reaching for her wand. "Where exactly am I?"

Silently, the figure entered the room, showing no sign of worry or doubt. Her skin was creamy and pale over a perfect frame and sensual curves. Lovely brown hair fell down to her waist, rich and full, while a long willow wand hung at her side. The newcomer grinned, showing a brilliant smile and full red lips.

But it was her eyes that caught Cho's attention, the colour of the sky, limitless and deep. Cho could see a sparkle of life within, the woman's blue orbs reflecting a lifetime of knowledge, a thirst for understanding that could not be quenched, speaking of enlightenment and wisdom. This was a woman who relied on her own abilities and skills for success, not her comeliness. Once more, Cho realized the truth suddenly. "Rowena? Rowena Ravenclaw?" she blurted, falling to her knees in respect.

Ravenclaw smiled dazzlingly. "There is no need for such formalities, my child. Come, let me look at you," she declared, cupping Cho's head in her hands. "You're as beautiful as I expected you to be," she said, planting a motherly kiss on the girl's forehead, holding her close. "Well done, child. You've tapped the full potential of my energies."

"You can't be alive though," Cho interrupted, slightly nervous at the situation. "Is this a dream?"

"A memory, dear child," Ravenclaw replied, patting Cho's head to reassure her. "It is a memory that existed since your birth, hidden in your blood, away from prying eyes. I was more…thoughtful then the other Founders when we received the energies." Her eyes took a wistful look, and she smiled faintly, almost as if reminiscing. "Regardless, we have much to do. Walk with me."

Cho complied, and the two women strode through the open corridors of Hogwarts, or the memory-Hogwarts, as she thought of it. The castle was far less grim, a definite absence of ghosts or surly portraits hassling passers-by. Sunlight shone through the open windows, and the stones had lost their age, the great blocks of sandstone like they were quarried yesterday. A trio of young girls walked past, wearing cotton robes dyed blue, giggling amongst themselves. Ravenclaw smiled, showing her pearly-white teeth. "My students. The first, actually."

Loud orders were barked from a nearby classroom, and Cho approached the open door, to discover a pale, blond haired man shouting, the students working furiously beside their cauldrons. The image of Lucius Malfoy flashed before her eyes, and she shuddered. "Is that-"

"Gaius Malfoy," Ravenclaw answered, eying her descendant with unbound respect. "He was a street urchin, before Salazar Slytherin took him as his apprentice. He was the Potions Master in my time, before our parting."

"Parting?" Cho asked, facing the legendary witch with fire in her eyes. "Lady Ravenclaw, Rowena, I really don't have time for chit-chat. I need to get back to Harry, make sure he's all right. Please, if you have something to say, say it now."

Instantly, Cho regretted her choice of words, and wilted under Rowena's piercing blue eyes. Finally, the Founder relaxed, her gaze softening. "Do you know about the true History of Hogwarts? How we came together? How we built this place?" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "How we gained our powers?"

Cho shook her head. "Tell me. Please."

"There were four of us," Ravenclaw intoned, relieving old memories. "Godric Gryffindor, a Norman knight and accomplished warrior-mage. He had fought at his lord's side at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, and his skill in arms was renowned amongst Muggles and wizards alike. Next was Helga Hufflepuff, the daughter of a Celtic chieftain, talented bard and fighter, equally adept with wand or sword." Rowena's eyes misted over at this point. "She was a dear friend, and loyal to Hogwarts beyond consideration. Then there was Salazar Slytherin, a wizard of Saxon birth, skilled in fighting the Dark Arts. We did not trust his prejudices, but he was a cunning tactician and an expert spy, and was more than willing to aid us. Finally, there was me, Norman born like Godric. I had already begun to tutor a group of young girls in magic, and arrived in England around the same time as Gryffindor."

Cho was silent as Rowena continued her tale. "The times were dark, my child. The Church was ruthlessly cracking down on wizards and witches throughout Europe, and constant warfare covered the land. The three great families of the Wizengamot fought amongst themselves, while Dark wizards of every variety plied their bloody trade. Many magical folk were unaware of their own powers, denied the full use of their being. Some could not control their abilities, and were a danger to others. When the four of us met, we knew that something had to be done, or the flame of magical knowledge would be extinguished forever, smothered by ignorance and hatred and greed."

"So you founded Hogwarts," Cho finished. "Each received a House of their own, selected for their abilities and attributes."

"Yes," Rowena answered, blue eyes filled with delight, voice lively and musical. "The Houses were designed to help ease tensions between we Founders on who should be taught inside Hogwarts. Unfortunately, even that could not stop our divisions. Godric and Salazar, once the best of friends, constantly quarrelled. Godric was mistrustful of Salazar's growing interest in the Dark Arts and his paranoid hatred of Muggle-borns, while Salazar was jealous of his interests in me. Yes, Godric and I were lovers, but even then, we argued constantly. Finally, after a huge argument, Salazar left the school with his wife, Genevieve and his child, Thomas. Afterwards, an uneasy peace settled over the school." Her voice became cold and bitter. "Fate, unfortunately, had other plans for us."

In an instant, they were no longer in Hogwarts. The sandstone blocks of the castle had been replaced with grey earth, sterile and lifeless. Dead trees arched crooked limbs towards the centre of the valley, and a titanic keep sat in the distance, its ramparts lined with soldiers, faces grim and frightened. Cho gazed up at a clouded sky, jagged lightning carving harsh streaks through the darkness.

A sound of thunder echoed over the rocky hills, and a horde of monstrous creatures surged forth to assault the castle, their horrible moans and shrieks rocking Cho to the core. She screamed despite herself, as the creatures came into view.

Undead. Loathsome, pus-filled, reeking undead. There were zombies and skeletons of all shapes and sizes, wielding a multitude of weapons, or clawing away with their bare hands. Undead wolves loped at the flanks of the horde, howling for blood. Huge abominations waddled on stumpy legs, constructed of dozens of corpses sewn together, brandishing huge meat cleavers. Rotten catapults lumbered forward, pushed by teams of zombies. Necromancers cackled with glee, black fire leaping from their staffs, directing the army against its foes. Bone giants grunted, crushing dozens underfoot, towers built on their shoulders, filled with undead. Zombie dragons soared overhead on tattered wings, exhaling a freezing breath attack. It was as if the gates of hell were opened, a dark cloud come to feast on the world.

Finally, Cho witnessed the most terrifying sight in this army of horrors. Clad in black plate mail, the figure marched through the ranks of his minions, utterly confident of his power. Eldritch energies blossomed from his fingers, and the air warped around him, his very presence corrupting life, the grass beneath his feet dying. In his right hand, spiked fingers grasped a monstrous sword, easily the height of a man. Forged of a hellish red metal, the blade shone menacingly, bloody runes glowing hot, eagerly awaiting the taste of gore. Cho shivered as the figure past, red eyes staring through a horned helmet, speaking of death and suffering unimaginable.

"Nehek, the Lichemaster, the Lord of Undeath," Ravenclaw intoned, gazing at the titan with pure loathing. "The Lichemaster had sworn his soul to a great evil, promising to slay their enemies in return for power. He is the father of necromancers, the twisted Lore of Necromancy emerging from his corrupt mind. Armed with the full extent of such powers and the daemonblade known as the Destroyer of Worlds, he poured down from the north, raising a huge army as he went, slaughtering everything in his path. For within his tormented soul, he dreamed of creating a world without life, without hope, where only the undead existed.

"Against such an evil, we moved to confront it. We welcomed Salazar back into the fold, then set about finding allies. High elves from across the sea, beastmen from the darkest forests, brave Muggle knights and men-at-arms from our territories, wizard volunteers and Elementalists from wherever we could find them. We met the Lichemaster and his horde at the keep of Boshenfels, and there we made war against him. It was a war that would determine our fates…" Ravenclaw trailed off, words of sorrow dripping of her tongue. "So many fell…"

Composing herself, the lovely Founder continued, a thousand-year old grief etched onto her face. "But before we could face the beast, the four of us discovered a hidden power buried beneath the earth since before time was time. The power was pure, unsoiled magic, and it reacted to the dark energies of Nehek, and burned brighter than ever as the foul one approached, awakened after eons of slumber. We did not know what exactly it was, but we knew it was a weapon, a weapon against evil. Thus, we surrendered to its lure, bathing in its power, drinking our fill of the intoxicating glory. You know of what I speak."

The pieces began to fall into place. "The energies of the Founders," Cho whispered, fear beginning to overcome her. "You absorbed the energies to fight Nehek, and they passed through your children, your descendants. To me."

Ravenclaw nodded, tears spilling forth. "Child, dear child, the burden placed upon you is greater than anyone should have to bear," she whispered, cradling Cho's head in her arms. "Immediately after we accepted the power, we felt its effects. It was fuelled by strong emotions at first, but we managed to exert a degree of control over them. It was slightly different for each of us, our individual talents and attributes affecting its uses. All of us were able to wield a mystic flame, and use the fire to shield ourselves from harm. Then there were other uses. Salazar could create illusions with the power, striking quickly in the panic and take his enemies by surprise. The energies of Hufflepuff augmented Helga's superior fighting skills, making her faster than she ever thought possible. I developed a healing power, the same power you used to help your fallen Harry."

"And Gryffindor?" Cho asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Godric had no special abilities besides the fire, but it burned hotter than any of ours, more powerful and destructive. In battle, he was a fearsome sight, blasting the enemy ranks apart with the magic, his hot-tempered nature contributing to its effects. You see, the energies we gained had certain…properties. Mainly, they are anathema to the presence of the Dark Arts. Daemons and undead shirked our presence, and a glancing strike from the fire could reduce even the mightiest monster to dust, nullifying their dark essences. Our weapons had a similar effect, for they too were changed by the power."

Cho thought for a moment, analyzing this new information. During the Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade, she had witnessed how brutally effective the energies of the Founders had been against the enemy. Wither it was Harry fighting the ranks of zombies, or herself against the Dementor swarm, the birthright of the Founders had been devastating, mowing through their units, cutting them down like wheat before the scythe.

Around her, the vision changed. Hundreds of armoured warriors stood upon the outer bastions of the keep, firing volley after volley of arrows into the undead mass. Many pitched over, slain by the hail of shafts, but more replaced them, surging forward, clawing at the walls for purchase. Wizards and witches cast their curses and enchantments, streaks of light and flame striking deep, transfiguring zombies into pigs, turning them to jelly, crushing their bones, or setting them alight. Still, the reeking carpet of evil advanced, bolts of black flame devouring some of the defenders, their bodies exploding in great heaps of meat. Ladders and siege towers were pushed into position, and howling undead warriors tore through the human ranks, the fallen troops reanimating, taking up arms against their comrades from life. Men, elves and goblins screamed in terror as they were overwhelmed. The beastmen threw themselves forward, howling oaths to their barbarian gods as they fought with suicidal frenzy, crude spears and swords hacking zombies apart. Yet even they could not hold against the weight of the unliving army, and they broke, fleeing for their lives. The blood of a dozen races drenched the walls and ramparts. And through it all, the Lichemaster eyed the keep coldly, his magic unstoppable, his bloodlust unquenchable.

Cho's mind whirled at the slaughter, as thousands of stubborn defenders tried, vainly, to hold off hundreds of thousands of undead. The bile rose in her throat, and she tried to close her eyes, to block out the horror of the ancient battle. Yet even then, she saw it, the images drilling into her psyche. She thought she had seen war in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, but they were just skirmishes compared to this. This was…slaughter. Death and mayhem and terror unlike anything she had ever seen. "Rowena?" she asked weakly, but the Founder was gone.

With the braying of horns, a regiment of Norman knights ploughed into the gap, swords slicing, lances impaling rotten bodies. Iron-shod hooves crushed hundreds underfoot, and the silk standard of Normandy was smeared with blood. The defenders gave a great cheer, and rallied around their strongest warriors and monsters, launching a desperate counterattack. From the hands of the Elementalists, a wall of flame emerged, burning undead in droves. Powerful curses blew skeletons back, and even a few necromancers wailed and died, the insane dark wizards dying on elven spears, consumed by elemental lightning, hacked apart with Norman blades.

Then the Lichemaster was there, inciting terror amongst the Norman steeds, causing them to buckle and stall. Black light formed on his hands, and the bodies of two-dozen knights melted and ran like candle wax, the stench of death increasing fivefold. Nehek brought the Destroyer of Worlds across in a huge arc, cleaving through six more horsemen, bisecting the knights with a spray of red, their armour ripped apart like paper. Crushing a helmed visage under his boot, the Lord of Undeath chanted another unholy incantation, shadowy fire consuming many of the defenders, incinerating flesh and bone, leaving only ashes. The horrified soldiers cried out in terror as he advanced, a regiment of abominations following in his wake, butchering any who resisted. As the ramshackle defenders fell back to the inner keep, bone giants smashed the outer walls to ruin, allowing more undead to pour in. An island of light in a sea of darkness, wizards and Muggles alike prepared for their last stand.

Then a single horn trumpeted from the west, clear as a bell, the solitary note like the crack of doom signalling the end. And atop of the ridge rode four figures upon noble steeds, their bodies glowing with power, their weapons bright and sharp. The four Founders of Hogwarts looked at the devastation, righteous fury emblazoned in their eyes. Cho gasped as she saw the magic build up to a fever pitch, burning brighter than the sun, illuminating the darkest corners of the valley. Necromancers shrieked in agony as they felt the light on their bodies, swiftly crumbling away. The unending ranks of the undead faltered, and as Cho looked into the slits of the Lichemaster's dark helm, she thought she saw fear.

Hooves sounded on earth, and the Founders charged full-tilt towards the enemy, no sign of hesitation or panic in their eyes. Ravenclaw drew back an elegant longbow, gripping the saddle in her thighs. Notching a blue-fletched arrow to the bowstring, she fired, the shaft arching towards the first bone giant. It struck, and the monster shuddered, blue fire consuming flesh and muscle. Ravenclaw fired again, hitting the brute's eye, and it collapsed into a pile of bones, crushing any undead sorry enough to be around it.

And then they struck, four thunderbolts, their weapons speaking with a purposeful tongue. Hufflepuff drew two short swords, the blades a whirlwind, hacking and slashing. Slytherin brought a monstrous axe to bear, wielding it like it was nothing more than a toy, every stroke cleaving through an opponent. With a single thought, Ravenclaw transfigured the bow into a long spear, lancing into zombies, felling abominations, every touch bringing death. Finally, there was Gryffindor, a mighty broadsword gripped tightly in his right hand, the letters of his name engraved on the flat of the blade, the corpses falling all around the warrior and his horse. Simultaneously, the Founders let loose the energies, the light slamming into the hideous undead, eradicating dozens, if not hundreds of zombies, blowing them to dust.

As Cho watched the bloody spectacle, she screamed despite herself as Nehek charged once more. The Destroyer of Worlds came down on Hufflepuff's steed, killing the graceful mount and sending Hufflepuff to the mud, undead upon her in moments. Raising the daemonblade again, the Lichemaster struck, aiming for Slytherin, the murderous weapon glowing red-hot. Slytherin attempted to parry to blow, only to be thrown aside like a rag-doll.

Bolts of blue fire slammed into Nehek's armoured back, the greatest of all necromancers howling in pain, the light-borne energies of Ravenclaw's attack eating through his body. The Founder focused her powers again, sapphire flames taking the form of a raven before they impacted, wounding him even further, yellowed bone showing through gaping slashes in his decaying flesh.

With a roar of frustration, Nehek conjured a sphere of death energies, hurling the orb at Ravenclaw, throwing the full force of his hatred and loathing into the attack. Desperately, Rowena used her powers as a shield, blue light slamming into black, energy bolts ricocheting at a dozen angles, slaying zombie and human alike. Still, the Lichemaster pressed his assault, drawing in more of his dark powers, the blast intensifying, ebony flames eating away at Ravenclaw's shield.

With a blast of light and fury, Ravenclaw was catapulted backwards, her powers fading in the face of the Lichemaster's might, robes tattered and burnt, the long spear falling from nerveless fingers. His red eyes squinting with glee, Nehek stood over her wounded body, raising the Destroyer of Worlds for the killing blow.

The monstrous blast of arcane force barrelled into the Lichemaster's side, the necromancer hurled to the ground, the last remnants of his armour burned away, fragments of charred black steel shattering on the hard earth. Screaming like a daemon, Gryffindor leapt forward, his great blade lowered like a spear, rushing to impale the ruthless wizard. Nehek dodged, bringing up the Destroyer of Worlds. Sparks flew as the two enchanted weapons impacted, red and gold flickering along the length of the blades, the two mages straining for every bit of purchase, muscles heaving and bulging.

Sweat poured down Gryffindor's brow as he pushed forward, gripping the edge of his sword tightly with both hands. Blood trickled from his palms, but he paid no heed, roaring in fury before summoning forth the power once more. Scarlet flames swept over Nehek in a tidal wave, casting the dark one several feet away, his body engulfed in fire. The undead stopped in their tracks, a dull moan emerging from their leprous throats, thousands of pairs of feet halting, great clouds of dust billowing above the horde.

Then the Lichemaster began to laugh, a hollow, ghostly sound, like bones rattling in the wind. His jaw hanging loosely from the decrepit skull, Nehek rose, chucking insanely. The full horror of his form was revealed, a single glance causing Gryffindor's eyes to water. The greatest of necromancers had become little more than a zombie himself, grey stinking flesh wrapped tight across yellowed bones, the stench of decay rising off his body in a festering cloud. The Lichemaster chanted a few arcane phrases, and a tangible aura of darkness formed around him, twisted faces formed of shadow. Gripping the Destroyer of Worlds, he faced Gryffindor like Death itself, harsh syllables spoken with a putrid black tongue.

Immediately, the horde of undead backed away, forming a ring of corpses around the two, like a pit in a gladiator arena. Watching from the memory, Cho realized what was happening. He was calling Gryffindor out.

The Founder wasn't willing to back down from such a confrontation, and with a mighty roar, charged full-tilt, his sword coming around in a brutal arc, right towards Nehek's deathly skull. At the last moment, the Lichemaster raised the Destroyer of Worlds, parrying the blow, dodging to the side. Red sparks flashed once again, leaping high into the sky, fiercer than any firework as the magic weapons clashed. Spinning around, Nehek slashed at Gryffindor's side, the daemonblade shrieking with bloodlust. Gryffindor ducked the unholy strike; lunging up with his own sword, face a mask of rage. Nehek hopped backwards, avoiding a fatal injury, before summoning his dark powers to him. Arm raised, he directed a storm of shadows against his foe, the blasphemous incantation chilling in its intensity. Gryffindor screamed, writhing in agony, blood leaking from a dozen wounds. Crimson fire exploded, encapsulating him in a tough shield, deflecting the bulk of the spell, shadow and flame lashing out.

Nehek howled ghoulishly, and the Destroyer of Worlds glowed red in the fading light, daemonic shrieks ringing off the arcane metal. The Lichemaster was a blur of motion, a veritable whirlwind of strikes smashing into Gryffindor's defences, every blow like a thunderclap, the sword moving faster than the eye could see. Whip-like tendrils of purple-red light lashed out at the Founder, attempting to throttle the life from the noble wizard.

Gryffindor's blade sang its bloody song as he slashed the energy tentacles to confetti, the momentum of the attack directed to Nehek's midsection. The Lichemaster deflected the blow with a disdainful flick, black fire punching into Godric's gut, sending him sprawling backwards.

Shrieking like a man possessed, Gryffindor attacked with reckless abandon, sword coming down in a huge vertical cut. Nehek parried the strike, tossing the Destroyer of Worlds to his left hand, attacking at the Founder's unguarded side, six feet of bloody steel thrust forward. Twisting away, Gryffindor responded, slicing at head, chest, and neck level, every motion fluid, the sword an extension of his very being. Driven back, Nehek chanted yet another vile phrase, and the undead charged in from all sides, the press of rotting corpses swallowing the Founder whole.

Crimson flame howled in every direction, and scores of zombies shrivelled up, consumed by the eldritch fire. Bellowing, sword raised high, Gryffindor charged Nehek, ignoring the clawed hands that tore at his robes and armour. Once, twice, thrice, his blade came down, knocking aside Nehek's defences. Nehek fought back, ebony light erupting from skeletal palms. Dispelling the counter-attack, and hurtling the Lichemaster to the ground in the process, Gryffindor conjured his powers together for one massive attack, the arcane energies causing the earth to crack beneath his feet. Sparks of scarlet light formed in the gap between his hands, red lightning drawn in like a solar flare, a single orb of magic floating in mid-air, growing greater and more powerful by the second. Even as Nehek staggered back up, decaying teeth showing a vengeful smile, Gryffindor continued to focus, his face a painful grimace, blood leaking from his various wounds.

The Lichemaster charged, fuelled by the hatred of life itself, blood-red eyes burning with rage. Black light cloaked him, and hundreds of fallen warriors were re-animated in the space of moments, seizing discarded weapons, flesh degenerating. The Destroyer of Worlds shrieked, its daemonic essence craving the coppery taste of fresh blood.

For an instant, the universe froze.

And with a roar of righteous anger, Gryffindor unleashed the energies of the Founders. The magic flared, and a coruscating comet burst forth, a veritable heavenly body of red-white light, screaming towards the Lichemaster, unstoppable, irresistible.

Desperately, Nehek realized his error, clawed feet digging into the sterile soil, scrabbling for purchase, trying to evade the titanic magical assault, but to no avail. Cho caught a glimpse of the necromancer's rotten skull transfixed in a silent scream, as the world turned white.

Light reacted with dark, and the shockwave threw the assembled crowds to the ground, zombies disintegrating, crumbling into dust, the necromantic essences animating them dispelled. Nehek gave a horrified scream, like that of an old woman, as the energies of Gryffindor devoured him. The Destroyer of Worlds vibrated in time with the dark wizard's death spasms, then shattered, red fire breaking the metal apart, crimson fragments scattering to the ground. Cracks began to form in the Lichemaster's skull as the monster roared in agony, tiny fissures allowing black light to pour out from its ruined body. The fissures spread, covering its arms, its legs, its torso, and Nehek uttered a final death-cry, red fire enveloping him like a burial shroud.

Gryffindor watched on with grim satisfaction as the Lord of Undeath dead, collapsing into a single sphere of dark energy, before that too faded into nothing, leaving only a smoking crater where he had once stood.

The hordes of undead went mad at Nehek's death, shrieking from half-eaten throats as they crumbled into dust, drained of all power. The necromancers fled, shrieking and wailing their twisted lamentations, their own bodies rotting away into black ichor. Bone giants fell, each impact like the footsteps of a god, their massive corpses degenerating with a putrid stench. Within the space of a few moments, it was as if the army of the dead never existed. The worn and exhausted defenders stared in shock, then gave a great cheer, hollering with joy as the four Founders stood on the bloody battlefield, wounded, battered yet alive.

Cho's vision swam, and the vision faded, replaced with the pale stones of ancient Hogwarts, Ravenclaw beside her, still clad in her blue dress robes. Cho sank down to the floor, her mind exhausted by what she had seen. "So," she declared, running through what she knew, "the energies of the Founders were a result of unknown magic, which you used to fight Nehek. You said that they were useful against undead. Any idea how they came into being? Magic always has to come from a source of some kind. So where did the energies spring from?"

Ravenclaw shook her head, full lips pursed together. "You are certainly my descendant, with an inquisitive mind like yours," she quipped, her voice turning serious once again. "After our acquisition of the energies, I delved into every tome, book, and legend I had at my disposal, trying to find out the answer to that question. Although I did not find anything conclusive, I believe that the energies were…engineered."

"Engineered? How? By whom?"

"That I do not know, child. They might have even been the result of spontaneous magiks colliding and merging. However, I do know this. Whoever or whatever created the energies of we Founders is long gone. They were planted as a weapon, in hopes that we would use them against the darkness. It is a magic of order, of life, of hope." Rowena placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, looking into her eyes. "This is the burden you must bear. The Champions are not only the defenders of Hogwarts, but of the Light itself. It is your duty to stand against the evil that would threaten the wizarding world, and it is your duty to fight for a better tomorrow."

Cho nodded, standing ramrod straight, every fibre of her being radiating inner strength. "We will. Voldemort has caused too much suffering in the world, and he is beyond redemption. I am not a warlike person, but I will fight against Voldemort to keep Harry safe."

"Not just Voldemort," Ravenclaw interjected. "Every generation of witches and wizards has seen one of the their number ascend to become the Dark Lord. Before Voldemort, it was Grindelwald, before Grindelwald, it was Mabus, and so on, and so on. Even as the previous Dark Lord fell to a warrior of the Light, another was already on the path to damnation. As your Headmaster and Grindelwald fought their final duel, Thomas Marvolo Riddle had already opened the Chamber of Secrets and embraced the dark cause that Slytherin started. The being you know as Voldemort is by far the greatest of the Dark Lords, beneath Salazar himself. He has made a pact with an ancient evil, my child, terrifying beyond reckoning, with powers dwarfing those of the Founders a hundredfold. He means to fulfill the pact."

"What pact?" Cho asked, heart seized up with fear. Any force that could crush the Founders of Hogwarts like ants was something to be aware of.

"The coming battle is the crucible, Cho, the climax of a centuries-old war against the Darkness. For hundreds of generations, witches and wizards of all cultures and races have fought and died to stem the evil's advance. It has grown strong, child, strong enough to achieve its final goal. Can you hear it, Cho, whispering venomous words in your ear, as you lie asleep? Can you taste its rank bitterness as you fight the servants of evil? Can you feel its presence as your lover touches you, a counterpoint to his goodness, his nobility? Voldemort has made a pact with unspeakable shadow, and while I cannot reveal the story to you at this time, be cautious. Harry was born to fight this war, and if he should fall, then hope will die, and the Darkness will be victorious." Ravenclaw leaned close, barely whispering. "He will need you more than ever. Not just as a lover, but a friend, a warrior, a source of strength when he has none. The Daemonslayer _must_ succeed. Can you do this for him?"

"Yes," Cho replied, without hesitation, full of fire and courage. "I will."

"Something wicked this way comes, Champion," Ravenclaw intoned. "Now, awake, Cho, awake. Let Chaos fear what love has created."

* * *

What seemed like an age later, Cho woke, finding Dumbledore's blue eyes staring at her with worry. "Ah, our young Champion awakens," the wise old sage declared, brow creased with both age and concern. "Are you alright, Ms. Chang? Madam Pomfrey reported that you had been rendered unconscious through some means."

"No, I'm fine, Professor," Cho replied sleepily, pushing a few strands of hair from her vision. "I jus-"

Suddenly, it came flying back to her. _Harry!_ Ignoring the venerable Heademaster's stares, she bolted up, examining Harry's condition. Her soft hands skilfully ran over Harry's chest, and she gave a squeal of shock and relief. The dark matter within his veins was gone, purged by the energies of Ravenclaw. Cho gave a great laugh, tears of happiness forming. _He's safe. Thank goodness. Now, he has a chance._

Gentle coughs signalled the rousing of Harry, the young Gryffindor sitting up in the hospital cot, a hand over the now healed magical wound on his chest. "Feels like I've taken a dozen Bludgers to the chest," he grumbled tiredly, stretching his neck. He stopped as if noticing Cho for the first time. "Cho! Are you okay? Did you get out alright? Are you hurt at all? Did-"

Harry's spontaneous outburst was cut short as Cho placed a finger on his lips, before holding him tightly. "It's okay, Harry, I'm safe. Thanks to you," she said, giving him a soft kiss. "Thank goodness you're alright, we were so worried about you."

"We?" Harry demanded, his eyes squinting in disgust as he saw Dumbledore. "Well, that's to be expected, I guess. Old Albus here just checking up on his weapon."

Dumbledore gave a slight shake of his head. "No, Harry, I was here to make that you were alright. I know I have not been totally honest with you in the past, but my intentions were honourable. I did what I had to do, for your benefit. Unfortunately, our personal disputes must wait, for the time being. We must work-"

"Don't pull that crap on me," Harry spat. "Ever since day one, you've been in the shadows, pulling me along into all your schemes. Dumbledore the puppet master. Are you to blame then for Hogsmeade? Cho was almost raped there, and all you've done is fulfill your daily quota of sanctimony."

"Harry, now is not the time to the fighting amongst ourselves. I have show incredible liberties with you, but my patience is wearing thin. I did not permit the events of Hogsmeade to occur, the entire wizarding world was taken by surprise. Remember that I have always done my best to protect this school and its students-"

"Well, tell that to the families of those who died! Give your little speaking point to those who lost loved ones! How many died, old man? How many didn't have to, if you had given any thought to doing your _job_, you cold-hearted bast-"

"Could you two just _shut it!_" Cho screamed, causing both Harry and Dumbledore to look up in shock. "Harry, Dumbledore did not order the attack on Hogsmeade, nor did he give his troops permission to torture and kill. That was Voldemort. I love you, but right now, you're being a stupid prat, so knock it off!"

As Harry's jaw dropped, Cho turned on Dumbledore in the same harsh tone. "And as for you, Professor, you are a great and accomplished wizard. That being said, you also deceived Harry for five years, and if you ever try to pull a stunt like that again, I will personally take your Order of Merlin, First Class, and shove it up your arse. Now, if the two of you could start acting like _adults_, there's some important information I'd like to share with you."

Silence descended in the Hospital Wing like a tonne of rocks, and Cho kicked herself mentally, her face turning red in mortification. "Sorry," she whispered in a tiny voice, watching as Dumbledore's expression became grim, his eyebrows flattening, beard bristling angrily. She prepared herself for the worst.

In a pleasant surprise, she was rewarded with the sound of hearty chuckles from the Headmaster. A tear of mirth began to form in the corner of Dumbledore's eye, and he wiped it away, chortling, "Well said, Miss Chang. My apologies. Go right ahead, speak freely."

Not to be outdone, Harry chimed in with all sincerity, "Sorry, Cho."

Cho smiled, kissing the man she loved. "I know, Harry. It's okay." Having now grabbed the full attention of both wizards, Cho related what had happened since her arrival in the Hospital Wing. She told of how she used the energies of Ravenclaw to dispel the necromantic poison from Harry's body, when all other methods had failed. She then moved on to the her vision of Rowena Ravenclaw, the tale of how the Founders obtained the energies, the final defeat of the Lichemaster, and Ravenclaw's dire warning for the future. She found it odd that Rowena did not tell her of how Salazar became the first Dark Lord, but put the matter aside for the moment. When she was finished, only silence replied to her tale, both Harry and Dumbledore deep in thought. There was no suspicion in the Headmaster's eyes as he looked at her, just a deep sense of awe.

"Rowena Ravenclaw was one of the greatest witches to ever grace the world with her presence. I have no doubt that what you saw was true, Miss Chang. The Founders did many great deeds in their time, and I am certain that you will accomplish the same as well."

"Rowena's warning is what troubles me the most, Headmaster," Cho asserted. "She was insistent that whatever Voldemort is working with, or for, it's very powerful. She was frightened by it, absolutely scared of whatever it is."

"It's even worse," Harry interrupted, causing two pairs of eyes to look at him with dread. "Voldemort has the prophecy."

Dumbledore's aged hands gripped Harry's shoulders, digging into his flesh. "How did this happen?" The Headmaster sounded shocked beyond reckoning, his face ashen. Neither Harry nor Cho are ever seen Dumbledore like this, and aside from the brief tear at the end of last year, neither of the two had seen any great emotional outburst from the old man.

Harry swallowed and took a deep breath before explaining. "After that blast of magic hit me, I kinda…drifted, I guess, there's really no other way to put it. I wasn't exactly conscious, but I could still experience some of the stuff that was going on around me. I felt this huge wave of pain, exactly like my Occlumency lessons with Snape. Then this cool sensation, Cho, I guess. Then I woke up here. As that pain struck, I could see some images in my mind's eye. The Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. The Champions Prophecy. Our training with Stormfury. Cho." He paused for a moment, voice filled with dread. "In a single instant, Voldemort accessed what I've tried to protect for so long. He knows about the energies of the Founders, at least that they exist. He knows about you, Cho, and will probably use you to get to me." His head sunk in his hands. "Well, I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let Voldemort hurt any more of my friends. Especially not you."

Cho smiled slightly, and she hugged him tightly. Yes, Harry would protect her. She saw it in his eyes, the fiery strength that would see her through a sea of troubles. Hidden beneath the boy's lean figure was the determination of a dozen men. He would not fail. _Especially when I'm watching over him._

Dumbledore spoke up again, his tone grim and serious. "Well, we are all relieved to see you up and moving again, Harry, but the situation is not good. Tom has outmanoeuvred us completely, his forces striking all across Britain. Many have died, and the Ministry of Magic has withdrawn the Aurors away from the fighting."

"How many died at Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Nearly two dozen villagers, I'm sorry to say, and four students." One might have seen the beginnings of a tear as Dumbledore continued. "Far worse, a large group of Death Eaters managed to escape Hogsmeade intact, capturing several prisoners. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are among them."

Cho gasped, and the colour bleached itself from Harry's face. "Are…they okay?"

"We do not know. I have sent the Order searching through the Forbidden Forest, but there has been no sign of the captives, or the Death Eaters."

Harry's face made its way into a vengeful grimace, and declared, "I'm going out there."

"What?" Cho exclaimed, chocolate-brown eyes filled with worry. "Harry, you're in no condition to be fighting. You've just barely survived a lethal curse, and you're exhausted. Rest for a while, and then we'll see about finding Ron and Hermione."

"Both my legs could be broken, and it wouldn't matter," Harry growled. "I need to go out there and find them. I won't allow more of my friends to be murdered."

"And get yourself killed, without any kind of plan? Harry, you're barely conscious. The Order will keep searching, but you need to rest, to save your strength. You'll need all of it if we're going to go find them. And yes, I'll be coming with you, but for now, rest."

"Miss Chang is right, Harry," Dumbledore added, pushing his gold-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "We understand that Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger mean some much to you, but facing Voldemort's forces in this condition is tantamount to suicide. If you truly mean to join in the search, then rest, for an hour, perhaps. The Order and the Aurors will continue to sweep the Forest for the location of the Death Eater camp, and we will find the prisoners. I fully appreciate your desire to help, but my position is clear. Rest."

"But-" Harry's complaint was drowned out by a sharp retort from Dumbledore.

"Rest! Now, we must prepare. Could the two of you be in my office, in three hours time?" the wizened sage asked, receiving two nods. "You will get your chance, Harry."

"Excuse me, Professor?" Cho inquired, raising a hand. "What will we be doing there?"

"Just talking to a hat, Miss Chang. Any ordinary wizards' hat."

* * *

Avalon fidgeted nervously in her borrowed robes, the elevator's descent ponderously slow for her tastes. She closed her now blue eyes, concentrating her powers, keeping them in check. A moment later, she calmed herself, sighing in relief. Already, she could feel _their_ presence beyond the wall, the mental resonance of hundreds of minds, her telepathically attuned senses listening to their echoes. She focused, trying to shut them out, to ignore the thoughts of others. _The price I have to pay_, she told herself, taking a few deep breaths. _Dig up some dirt on Fudge. That is all that matters._

The doors of the elevator opened with a subtle hiss, and Avalon entered the Atrium, joining the throngs of people milling around, going about their duties. Her sharp eyes caught the increased numbers of Ministry Guardsmen on patrol, their wands at the ready, frisking visitors from the Floo entrances, keeping a close watch on any newcomer. The Spirit Walker felt their gaze on her as she entered, dressed in standard black office robes, her hair done up in a bun. One of the Guardsmen approached her at the security desk, ordering, "Excuse me? Display your identification for security purposes."

She caught a thought in the man's head. _"Whoa, sweet little thing we got here. Maybe she likes to…work, after hours?"_

Avalon smiled sweetly, ignoring the lecherous thoughts running through the Auror's mind. "Of course," she replied, showing him her office credentials. "I've been assigned to deliver status reports to the Minister's office as they come in."

The Guardsman squinted at the moving photo on her ID tag. _Jenessa McAdams_, it said, the picture displaying a well-tanned young girl, wearing a light pair of glasses. After several moments of consideration, the Auror let her through, remarking to himself as she passed, _"Nice arse on that one."_

Shaking her head, Avalon moved through the various corridors and hallways of the Ministry, satisfied that her disguise had worked. Thanks to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration skills, the ghostly pale Spirit Walker had been replaced with an athletic Ministry intern, a role that was sure to throw off suspicion, if not attention. She walked with a dignified air, one of confidence and self-assurance, watching everything, examining every detail of the Atrium. _Now, let's get to work._

With a quick thought, Avalon began focusing her abilities, picking out memories and emotions from the minds of passers-by, trying to find any solid information, her brain like a radio receiver dish, hearing everything floating around. The general vibe was that of shock, fear, and despair, the presence of the Ministry Guard only aggravating the situation. Still, she pressed on, searching for knowledge, seeking the truth. _I hope the missus doesn't find out about me and Monica,_ as a balding, lanky man walked past, his nose overturned like he had just walked into a rubbish heap. _My kids! Are they alright?_, a young mother, arms filled with files and papers. _Falcons all the way, baby!_, a middle-aged man, going smartly about his work, a Falmouth Falcons pin on his robes. _What does Fudge want now?_ A grizzled Auror veteran walked past, the white triangle of the Ministry Guard emblazoned on the back of his cloak.

Swiftly, Avalon followed the man, trying to appear natural in the hubbub all around them. From the enchanted windows, a sunlight image had been projected, while flights of purple paper airplanes glided towards their destinations. In the centre of the Atrium, a team of workmen squabbled over the design for the replacement fountain. She ignored all this, tailing the Auror instead, getting on the same elevator as him. He paid her no heed, and descended to the lowest floor of the building, exiting into a large antechamber. She let him go first, silently moving after him, the first fingers of worry getting a hold on her. _Where is this guy going?_

At last, the Guardsman turned a corner towards a lavish office door, returning the salutes of the four Aurors stationed outside. Avalon bit her lip, ducking into the shadows, noticing goblin-forged swords at their sides, complementing their wands.

Four of them. One of her. There was no doubt in Avalon's mind that she could kill them easily, but she restrained herself. Unnecessary violence wasn't going to accomplish anything, and deep down, she abhorred the idea of ending another human life. Besides, they'd need every warrior they could get their hands on to fight Voldemort.

Her vision trailed over to a broom closet, and she smiled, the solution glaringly obvious. Making sure she was not being followed, she slipped inside, uttering a complex locking incantation behind her. The closet had a musty odour to it, and dozens of broomsticks lined the walls, held securely in weapons racks. A single lamp illuminated the interior, and Avalon quickly examined the room for any traps or wards. Nothing.

Dragging a large box across the room, her petite body hunched up under the strain, Avalon assumed the lotus position, closing her eyes, frail arms in her lap. Her mind faded into a trance-like state, all her fears and troubles washed away, mind probing, hunting like a hungry shark. Almost there…

Release. Empowered by years of training and the warpstone dust, Avalon's spirit floated free of her body, emancipated from physical desires and limitations, floating invisibly through any obstacle. Uttering a quick laugh of delight, Avalon took off towards the Auror checkpoint, the Minister's guards totally ignorant of her presence. Passing through the door, she paused for a moment, listening to Fudge's paranoid ranting beyond. She reached out with her mind, testing for any wards that would interfere. A moment passed. Nothing she couldn't handle.

Finally, Avalon floated into the garishly painted office, noticing the thick oriental carpets covering the floor, paintings of previous Ministers and Fudge's relatives hanging on the walls in their multitudes. A picture of Fudge sat on his desk, displaying the events of his most recent inauguration, banners waving in the breeze. Four people were gathered, lounging in plush leather office chairs; Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, his pet stooge, Dolores Umbridge, a timid secretary scribbling down their conversation with a Quick Quotes Quill, and the Auror she had followed here, arms held stiffly at his side. The Auror stood at attention, jaw rock-hard as he gave his report, baritone voice filled with pride and discipline. "It's true, sir. Field operators have reported that the Death Eaters have levelled Hogsmeade. Most of the village is in ruins, and we have heard rumours that the Shadow Hunter was there."

A harsh cackle erupted from Umbridge's throat. "The Shadow Hunter! Now, at last, we can prove that Dumbledore's working with those heathen scum," she crowed gleefully, rubbing her hands in anticipation. "That school needs discipline, Minister! While that miscreant Potter deludes the students, that old fool Dumbledore has brought in a terrorist and a criminal to teach them!"

"I agree wholeheartedly, Dolores," Fudge replied, trembling hands clutching his bowler hat, the rim covered with sweat. "The public, however, will not like it. No, we'd best stay clear, for the moment."

"But you are the Minister!" Umbridge shrieked, eyes wild. "The public is a rabble of bleeding heart liberals and uneducated oafs! Leeches and the lazy, feeding off your charity like some damned parasite! Make examples of Dumbledore and the brat. Execute the heathen. Demand the obedience of the populace, or else!"

Even in her spirit form, Avalon shuddered at Umbridge's ranting, an ominous chill sweeping over her. She forced the feeling aside, maintaining her concentration, vowing to give the toad a piece of her mind. Literally, in fact. _How dare they blame Daelin for the disaster!_

Meanwhile, the Auror stepped forward, voicing his two Knuts. "Sir, as per your request, I have ordered all Auror companies to secure this position. I have several hundred troops here presently, with more on the way. However…" His voice trailed off, as he carefully composed his next sentence, "there have been some…opposition within the ranks."

"What kind of opposition?" Fudge asked, face ashen with fear.

"Grumbling, mostly," the Auror replied, his eyes dark underneath craggy brows. "One unit in particular disobeyed your orders, and moved to assist in the Hogemeade conflict."

Fudge choked and sputtered for a moment, then demanded, "Who was in charge of that unit?"

"One Nymphadora Tonks," came the response. "I've sent owls ordering her back to the Ministry, but no reply as of yet."

Angrily, the Minister rose to his feet, spittle flying from his lips. "Court-martial her, Pieter. Make an example of her. There will be no mutiny in the ranks of my Aurors! Use the Ministry Guard if you have to, but stamp it out, crush it, grind it into the dust!" he shouted, his face growing red. "Are you getting this, Edgecombe?"

"Yes, Minister," the secretary replied meekly, scribbling down some notes on parchment, the quill scratching furiously. _Doesn't she have a daughter in Hogwarts?_ Avalon wondered, thinking back to what she had seen in Harry's memories. _Ah, yes, the mother of the sneak._

"This is a conspiracy!" Umbridge howled, her eyes wild with anger. "Dumbledore is trying to take advantage of this situation by turning our Aurors against us! He wants the seat of Minister for himself!"

Fudge nodded in understanding. "You're right, of course, Dolores. I have to look after the Ministry, not Hogwarts. If the Death Eaters attacked the stupid castle, that's his problem. I have myself to look after, not some witless children and traitors. That's what Dumbledore is, a traitor! He wants to depose of me and install a puppet government in my place!"

Even despite her intense mental conditioning and discipline, Avalon was aghast at their callousness and indifference to the slaughter at Hogsmeade. _Monsters,_ she realized, a burning anger coming over her. _They're monsters, no better than Voldemort, driven by greed and arrogance and a lust for power. What's happening to this country? Do the people not care about how their leaders have become?_

Before this mission, Avalon had heard stories and reports of the Ministry's growing incompetence and irresponsibility. Cover-ups of Voldemort's return, a smear campaign against dissents and political rivals, flagrant abuses of legal and military power. It was as if Fudge would allow the country to fall into ruin if it meant protecting his authority. He would let innocent people die, just to stay in office. And now this, accusing Dumbledore of being the real threat! _Voldemort will finish us off easily with this moron in charge_, she told herself, still maintaining her focus.

It would be easy to kill him. While the Spirit Walkers did not engage in open warfare or guerrilla strikes like their fiercer cousins, the Shadow Hunters, they did have some weapons in their arsenal. Avalon was one of them, her telepathic abilities able to affect more than just minds. By focusing their powers, some of the more powerful Spirit Walkers could inflict pain or death with their minds. _It would be simple to reach out and murder him_, she thought, a wicked idea forming. A single telekinetic touch to a major artery would seal it off, effectively freezing his heart. Cardiac arrest. No potions, no weapons, no detectable spells. The Minister wasn't exactly in the best shape, and a simple heart failure would not go unchallenged as a cause of death. _I could do it. I could kill this insufferable fool and stop his petty interference once and for all._

And yet, she paused for a moment, hovering in-between the physical and spiritual. Would Fudge's death help anything? Probably not, considering how tightly he held onto power. His death would only destabilize the situation even further, and the Dark Lord would certainly fill the power vacuum. And if Fudge were to die, then the Undersecretary would become the next Minister. Namely, Dolores Umbridge. Having heard of her disastrous reign of terror over Hogwarts, the castle's inhabitants trapped by paranoia and fear, Avalon had no desire to see the toad-like thing receive even greater power over wizarding Britain. Still, the first crack had formed in her resolve, tiny, fragmentary, but capable of growing into a great rift. _Not too much longer_, Avalon told herself, focusing again to maintain her astral state.

The door to the Minister's office opened, and two new figures entered, garbed in heavy cloaks. The shorter of the two snapped to attention as he saw the Minister, red hair slicked back professionally. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Minister," he apologized, bowing and grovelling repeatedly, much to Avalon's disgust. "Lady Malfoy requested that she speak with you immediately."

Swallowing nervously, Fudge stood back up, straightening the creases of his green executive robes. "Ah, thank you, Percival. Pieter, organize the Ministry Guard, and be ready to escort us to Hogwarts. Now, excuse us for a moment."

Percy grinned like a four-year old getting his first puppy, while the Ministry Guard Commander was as stony as ever, his master-crafted wand secured expertly by his side. Umbridge shot Narcissa a venomous glance, before joining the others in the hall. Her spirit floating insubstantially above the scene, Avalon listened to every whisper between the Minister of Magic, and the newly widowed Mrs. Malfoy, dressed in black robes of mourning.

Narcissa put on her best distraught face, her silver-blonde hair exquisitely styled, framing her pale aristocratic features. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Minister."

Fudge shrugged off her apology, kissing her hand. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Malfoy. By now, you have heard of your husband's death, correct?" he asked, leering at Narcissa. "Your husband was my enemy, and a threat to the security of the wizarding world. Regardless, I must offer my condolences to you for his death. Your family has been a source of great support of me, especially in these dark times. Will your assets be secured?"

The fair-haired pureblood nodded slightly, adopting a submissive attitude when dealing with the power-mad Minister. "All thanks to you, Minister. Had you not prevented the Aurors and Gringotts from seizing our fortunes, myself and young Draco would be penniless right now." She sat down on her knees, subtly offering Fudge a glimpse of her considerable cleavage. "For that, you have our thanks."

"Your fortunes have helped me as well, Mrs. Malfoy," Fudge replied curtly, gaze lingering over her stylish robes. "Any money I can use against political opponents is useful. Don't fret; I shall fully investigate the actions around Hogsmeade. I have heard some disquieting rumours about the use of illegal magiks, and public safety must be assured, after all."

_Fudge and the Malfoys are working together!_ Avalon realized, utterly aghast at this new development. It was a helpful partnership, to both sides. The Malfoys would retain their immense fortune, and have them protected from investigation or seizure by Gringotts Bank or the Aurors. In return, Fudge would get some of the pureblood pie, using the funds to finance re-election campaigns, attack advertisements in the _Daily Prophet_, or simply pocket the Galleons for himself. While the assets of the Black family lay frozen ever since Sirius Black was thrown in Azkaban, Fudge was allowed _known Death Eaters_ to take out cash whenever they liked.

"I'm just so worried about my son, Minister," Narcissa said, her word dripping with fake concern. "How could Dumbledore have let this happen? All those students dead." She stared into Fudge's eyes, her own ice-blue orbs filling with realistic tears. "The bloodlines of so many prominent pureblood families were in danger. How could a wizard such as Albus Dumbledore be so reckless and irresponsible?"

The Minister swallowed the lure, hook, line and sinker. "Stay calm, madam. I am certain that young Draco is fine. A pity though, a boy that young to lose his father. I will make sure the fiends behind this are brought to justice, and Dumbledore called to the carpet for his negligence. Between you and I, I've never held the man in high regard. Who knows? Perhaps this will be the final nail in the coffin of Albus Dumbledore's career?" The look on Fudge's face said it all. The corpulent and greedy wizard would not mind seeing him go.

Avalon sighed contentedly. _I have it._ The memories she had gained from this encounter would be the perfect tool for blackmail against Fudge and the Ministry. A single Pensive, placed on Fudge's doorstep, would be all the Order of the Phoenix, and the Council of Gaea, would need to gain the support of his forces. Fudge could rot in hell and Avalon would not shed a tear. Only the fact that they needed the Aurors gave the Ministry any usefulness in the coming war.

Something was wrong. As Avalon maintained her spectral form, she felt an unusual presence, centred on Narcissa Malfoy, hanging over her like a dark cloud. The other was unresponsive as Avalon probed out with her mind, but she continued, peering into the Death Eater's mind, until she saw it, flashing before her eyes…

A dark room, barren and uncluttered. No doors. No windows. A single throne upon a raised dais, empty. The cold stone floor, as Avalon strode barefoot towards the seat, cold and unflinching.

Whispers broke out in the dark; she whirled around, becoming frightened. The voices grew in number and intensity, and Avalon covered her ears, desperate to shut out the screams of terror and revulsion that echoed around her skull. "Please, stop," she whimpered, temples throbbing, her psyche aching from the vocal onslaught. "Please, just leave me alone," she begged, the noise increasing fivefold. The pressure increased, and Avalon's gaze came to rest on the floor in front of her.

Painted in lamb's blood on the stone blocks, the symbol shook the Spirit Walker to the core. The eight-pointed star, the centre surrounded by a jagged circle, the heinous design causing her to shake uncontrollably. A dribble of black blood ran down her forehead, and her prayers for deliverance became more frantic than ever.

The Mark of Chaos.

_I see you, mortal._

Images of terror and pain flooded her mind, crushing her resistance to powder, overwhelming her stiffest telepathic defences. In an instant, she saw _everything_. She saw the nightmare that lurked in the depths of every soul, felt their terrible gazes, heard their agonizing whispers, threats, plans, promises of power. She saw the horror that had existed since the dawn of the universe, the dread conspiracy that they had waited eons to fulfill. _Death. Death. Death unnumbered! Death unbounded! _

With a scream of supreme agony, Avalon's spirit whiplashed back into her body, the terrifying force of the vision throwing her into the nearest wall, shattering several ribs. She screamed until her lungs ached, shivering and convulsing as if possessed. _Pain! Terror! Rage! Death! So much death!_ She cried like a child after a nightmare, tears cascading down her pixie face. There was no mother to comfort her, to assure her that it was all a dream.

It was real.

Curses impacted the door to the broom closet, tearing the strong pinewood off its hinges. Bright light blinded her for a moment, blocked by the grim-looking Auror that bore down on her, wand raised. "Huh?" he asked, pointing his oaken wand at her skull. "What in Merlin's name are y-"

Avalon's reaction was instantaneous, all self-restraint shattered in the face of what she had seen. Uttering a brutal cry, she lashed out with her substantial telekinetic powers, and _pushed_ with her mind. The force of the attack drove the Auror into the corridor wall like he was shot from a cannon; bones breaking like glass in the impact. The petite Spirit Walker howled again, and lifted the Auror like a rag doll, slamming him against the marble stone again and again, blood splattering all around until the wizard was reduced to a pulpy mess.

A second Auror rushed towards the broom closet, drawing his sword. Avalon shifted her focus, snapping the man's spine with a thought, his death spasms horrific in their intensity.

And then she was running, bolting through the remaining Aurors that had moved to investigate. A curse sizzled past her ear, blasting chunks of stone where it struck. Sheer panic gripped her, instinct took over, and she ran like the hounds of hell were chasing her, short, painful breaths flowing into her lungs. The Aurors screamed at her to stop, rough orders were bellowed, the Minister jumped up and down, bawling for her arrest, workers and interns scattered out of her path, a deluge of parchment raining down to the floor.

"_Stupefy!_" A fireteam of six Ministry Guardsmen assembled around the next corner, red sparks blazing towards her. Screaming wildly, Avalon tossed them aside, her warpstone-charged abilities sending Fudge's handpicked thugs hurtling through the air like leaves in an autumn gale. Avalon didn't even break stride as she leapt over their unconscious bodies, heading for the elevator.

The only occupant of the elevator was yet another Ministry Guardsman, who fired off a curse as she neared, presumably alarmed by the commotion spreading in her wake. Raising his wand once more, he was halfway through his next incantation when Avalon caused his skull to implode; blood, bone, and brain matter hitting the floor with a disgusting squish. Skidding to a halt on the slippery mess that used to be an Auror, the Spirit Walker mashed the control panel, praying that she would hit the 'up' button.

Gears clanked, and the elevator shot straight up, the change in elevation causing Avalon's ears to pop. As the elevator slowed down to allow additional passengers, she focused, circumventing the wards that powered the machine. It screamed to the top, faster and faster, her mind ablaze. _What have they done? What are they thinking?_

A booming voice echoed throughout the Ministry, utterly livid in its tone. _"All units, this is Commander Ramoras. We have had a security breach near the Minister's chambers! A spy has infiltrated the Executive Level of the building, presumably to assassinate the Minister and his aides. Protect Minister Fudge! Seal the exits! First company, reinforce security inside the Atrium! Second company, defend the Wizengamot meeting chambers! Third company, the Department of Mysteries! All other units, find the spy! Kill on sight! I want all Floo portals closed, and the Visitors entrance locked down! Move it!"_

The elevator came to a jerking halt, causing Avalon to tumble to the floor. She began to panic further, clawing at the walls in a desperate effort to escape. _The truth cannot die with me!_ She could not fail now. She could not fail the Order or the Council of Gaea. She could not fail the Champions.

She could not fail Daelin.

Balling a hand into a fist, she made a tearing motion at the elevator wall, teeth grinding. The metal ripped away like tissue paper, revealing a series of crawlspaces beyond. Swallowing her fear, Avalon bolted inside, squirming on her belly. The pain of her broken ribs returned, a fresh burst of agony with each movement, but she kept going, her gentle sobs ringing through the cramped tunnels. Every cell of her body screamed for release, but the thought of the evil she had witnessed drove her on, the anger surging forth. She ran through the injustices in her head, every new crime infuriating her further.

The Minister of Magic was consorting with a family known to support the Dark Lord.

The Minister of Magic had deliberately restrained the Aurors from defending the country from the Dark Lord's raids.

The Minister of Magic had left hundreds of innocent people to die, all in the name of preserving his own power.

The Minister of Magic intended to blame Harry, Dumbledore, and Stormfury for the disaster at Hogsmeade.

And much more…

Avalon was still mulling over these thoughts as the tunnel floor gave way with a resounding crack, the long-forgotten well opening up once more. She gave a startled cry, grasping for a handhold that was beyond her reach. For several seconds of dizzying terror, the Spirit Walker plummeted into the abyss.

Then there was only darkness.

* * *

The battle robes felt light on Harry's body as he tied the final knot, the tough crimson dragonhide polished to a high gloss. Stretching out, Harry tested the flexibility and mobility of the rigid material, grunting with approval. The robes that Dumbledore had purchased for the three Champions were great, the dragonhide leather able to withstand intense blows, while still offering them freedom of movement. Wiping his sleep-encrusted eyes, Harry drew his broadsword, testing the edge with an upraised thumb, wincing as the steel cut skin, a trickle of blood emerging from the wound. The pain was unnoticed in the tumult of thoughts in his heads. _Save Ron and Hermione. Protect Cho. And, hopefully, kill Voldemort._ It was a tall order, and he wasn't even sure if the Dark Lord was present in the Forest. Regardless, he wasn't going to back down. _This is what I was born to do._ Sheathing the sword on the scabbard over his back, Harry eyed the alternating layers of dragonhide leather and cloth that composed his robes. _Perfect._

Beside him, Cho tightened the leather bracer she had secured over her left forearm, tying her flowing raven-black hair into a ponytail. Her sapphire battle robes accentuated her full curves perfectly, the dragonscale jerkin hidden by the cotton overcoat, the tough britches hugging her long legs. A razor-sharp katana hung by her side, and a yew longbow and quiver were secured at her back. Fitting on a pair of dragonhide gloves, Cho turned to Harry, asking, "You ready?"

Harry nodded, taking a few deep breaths. The energies of Gryffindor perked up from the depths of his soul, responding to his mediation. The few hours' sleep he had gained, combined with a few restorative potions, had helped to ease the pain of his now-healed wounds. Cho had stayed with him, the two lovers snuggling up together in the uncomfortable hospital bed, the warmth of her body lulling him to sleep. "Yeah, I'm good. Blaise?"

The Champion of Slytherin gave a wicked smile, standing mischievously in her own pair of battle robes. Her weapon of choice, a wicked long rapier, had been thrust through her belt, whilst a brace of throwing knives hung beside them. One interesting addition to her arsenal was a single cloth satchel, thrown over her shoulder. Blaise had been especially tight-lipped about the contents of the bag, ignoring any of Harry's entreaties to reveal the secret. "I've been ready for a while, Potter. Now, shall we see what our darling Headmaster has planned for us?"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. After the three hours was up, Harry and Cho had met Blaise within the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, preparing themselves for battle. As the unlikely trio sharpened swords, strung bows and ensured wands were in good repair, Cho explained to Blaise the vision of Ravenclaw. "Guess the evidence just keeps mounting up," the blue-eyed spy had joked, donning her battle robe. "Don't worry, I'll watch your back. If Potter is so convinced on going through with this suicide mission, then you'll need _someone_ who can fight. I'm with you."

There had been no success from the Order's search of the Forbidden Forest, but Harry wasn't giving up hope. Ron and Hermione were alive, _had_ to be. He hoped that it would only be a quick search, and not a pitched battle with possible Death Eaters. While Harry had several dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix to call upon, not to mention a full company of Aurors commanded by Tonks and Kingsley, he had no definite idea as to the number of Death Eaters in the Forest, not to mention Dark creatures, Dementors, or necromancers. His skin shivered at the thought of the undead wizards, and his chest ached. With any luck, that was the last of them. He hoped.

"Acid Pops," Cho told the gargoyle, causing the circular staircase to appear before them. The Champions strode up the stairs, utterly confident, ready for war, their footsteps echoing eerily in the brightly lit corridors.

Stormfury was waiting for them in the antechamber outside Dumbledore's study, arms across his chest, leaning against the door, the various rips and tears in his royal blue Shadow Hunter robes expertly patched up. "I am glad to see that you are healed, Harry," he declared, blue eyes examining their weapons and robes. "The armour looks good on you. Use it well." He motioned to the study. "Dumbledore will see you now."

Giving their thanks, Harry, Cho and Blaise stepped into the darkened room, the inner sanctum of the Headmaster and his closest friends and aides. The room was shrouded in shadow, the only illumination coming from the dozen orbs of light arranged in a semi-circle around a single object. Its tattered wool point hanging limply, the Sorting Hat sat upon a tall post, silent. Harry swallowed despite himself, knowing what was about to come.

The lights came on, and the entire faculty of Hogwarts was revealed, standing behind each of the light orbs. Each of the teachers wore a cream-white robe, decorated with an orange trim, and the emblem of a soaring phoenix emblazoned on their chest. _They're all Order members_, Harry realized, putting faces to names. Every single one of the teachers was present, except for Stormfury. Even Madam Hooch and Professor Trelawny were there, the latter shaking like a leaf, bug eyes staring at the Champions with shock. Beside her, Snape growled to himself, looking positively uncomfortable, not being in his usual black attire. "So, this is what we've come to see?" he sneered, his hook-like nose looking even longer than usual tonight. "While the threat of the Dark Lord still lingers, I have been called away from my duties to see Potter and his _girlfriend_ in their Halloween costumes. And Ms. Zabini, pleasure to see you here. I had no idea that you were friends with Potter and his ilk."

"Yeah, there's a lot of things you don't know, Snape," Blaise snapped. "Or should I call you Snivellus?"

Snape blanched, his sharp retort cut off by Dumbledore's entrance. "They are here for a reason, Severus," the Headmaster stated, not a trace of his usual mirth present. "Welcome, Champions. Please, step forward."

"Champions?" Professor Flitwick squeaked from atop his stool. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Albus."

"There are many things that I have kept from the staff, Phillius. The role of Mr. Potter and his friends in this war are one of them. We face a dark hour, my friends. Voldemort has struck at the heart of our defences, and while the wards prevent him from gaining access to the castle itself, his forces are free to ravage the surrounding area. There will be more Hogsmeades, more atrocities, unless he is stopped. We estimate that only a small number of his forces are located in the Forbidden Forest, but these relative few can cause tremendous damage. Our options are limited, so the Order must sally forth and drive these foes out."

"You still haven't answered the question, Headmaster," Snape growled. "What are _they_ doing here?"

And so, Dumbledore told the teachers of Hogwarts of the Champions Prophecy. With total secrecy already lost, and amongst the company of dedicated witches and wizards, Dumbledore told them of how an enterprising young Seer had discovered the prophecy, speaking of four Champions, one for each House. When he was done, not a word of objection or dismay was raised from the shocked teachers, the foundations of their experience and knowledge rocked to the core.

Snape's snort of disbelief cut through the silence. "This is ludicrous," he said, receiving several nasty glares from fellow staff. "The Founders were consumed by their work and with teaching. I have spent many hours searching through the archives, and I have found no mention of the Founders in any war, or having children. They were devoted to the study of magic. And this wandless magic, impossible! Again, no mention of such a thing." He turned to Dumbledore, voice filled with disdain. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but it will take more than some madwoman's ranting to convince me of this."

"Dig the soil out're your ears!" Hagrid barked, his Order robes tent-like. "I trust Dumbledore, and let me tell ya, Snape, 'Arry Potter has been through things that'll make ya head spin. Yeah, I think it's true. Only some'un whose got powerful magic could'a gone through all that. And them Founders could'a had kids. They were human, weren't they?"

"But what of the Champion of Hufflepuff?" Professor Sprout asked nervously. "Have you managed to find this person?"

"No, Hufflepuff has not been found, despite our best efforts," Dumbledore replied. "Make no mistake though, the bloodlines of the Founders perpetuated, over centuries and continents. And these children are the result. Mr. Potter, Miss Chang and Miss Zabini are the descendants of Godric, Rowena, and Salazar, and the magiks they wielded survive to this day. It is the destiny of Harry to slay Voldemort."

"This is laughable!" Snape cried. "You mean to tell me that this _boy_, is the only hope of killing the Dark Lord? Where is your proof?"

Heavy footsteps sounded on the carpet, and Stormfury entered, face blazing with rage. "Proof, traitor? You want proof? Hogsmeade is your proof! The bodies of Death Eaters, Dementors and undead, cast aside like toys, is your proof! Examine the body of Lucius Malfoy, and you will find your proof, Death Eater." His curved sword was out by this point, the bright metal reflecting Stormfury's anger. "Question such deeds again, and not even my promise to Dumbledore will save you."

"My friends, peace," Dumbledore intoned, holding up his hands in a warding gesture. "Harry, Cho and Blaise are the descendants of the Founders. They are the Champions, and they bare the burden of a thousand-year war. But enough of this." The wise old wizard looked at the Champions, stony fortitude etched into his face. "Harry, you have asked to join the search party. It will be dangerous, and the threat of Death Eaters is always present. I cannot order you to join; it must be your own decision. Are you certain that you wish to go through with this?"

Harry nodded, his green eyes filled with determination and the lust for revenge. "Yes, Professor, I am. I can't abandon my friends. I won't."

"Then it is decided. But first, I have something for you. Ms. Chang, approach the Sorting Hat."

Shooting Harry a confused glance, Cho walked up to the decrepit, moth-eaten hat, extending her hand into the bottom at Dumbledore's urging. Dexterous fingers gripped something, and pulled.

Harry gasped as Cho withdrew a beautiful longbow, made of polished yew, nearly Cho's height. The bowstring was made of unicorn hair, finely woven into a tensile strand, while gold etchings had been made all along the outer surface, rune enchantments. A line of blue paint had been made across its slender frame, and Harry could only stare in wonder as he saw the runes pulse at Cho's touch.

"They called this bow Stormcrow, Miss Chang," Dumbledore explained. "Ravenclaw was an expert archer, and this weapon bears many charms that she herself placed upon them. It is yours. Take it."

Discarding her conventional bow, Cho eyed the heirloom weapon lovingly. "And if the vision was true, she should do this…" Closing her eyes, Cho concentrated for a moment, and the weapon changed on command, becoming a lethal spear, a blue feather tied to the base of the pole. More runes covered the flat of the long blade, twinkling gently in the light. Cho sighed, satisfied with her new acquisition. "Thank you, Professor."

Next was Blaise, the cunning Slytherin striding confidently to the Hat, her golden blond hair falling down her back. Reaching into the Hat, she was rewarded with a bulky weight materializing in her hands. She grunted as she pulled the weapon out. "Wonder what old Salazar left for me in the will?"

The answer turned out to be a monstrous battle-axe, easily the size of the weapon used by the executioner Macnair during Harry's third year. Jade runes embellished the axehead, and the short wooden shaft was perfectly smooth and even. "The Adder's Bite, the axe of Slytherin," Dumbledore explained. "The Master of Serpents was fond of this weapon, using it to execute his rivals after they surrendered. No armour forged by mortal hands can withstand a blow from this."

"It's surprisingly light," Blaise remarked, tossing the axe from hand to hand, doing a few practice cuts.

"Yes, the magic bound within contributes to its handling. You will find it an agile weapon to use, given practice, something we do not have time for. Now, Harry, I believe you know what you are to be given?"

Harry's mind wandered back to his second year, the Chamber of Secrets, and his near fatal clash with the basilisk. "The sword," he whispered reverently.

Dumbledore smiled, a spark of his old self returning. "The sword will no doubt have changed since you last used it. In your second year, you had only begun your study of magic, and your growth into maturity. Now, the energies of Gryffindor have sparked, and your past abilities are but a shadow of your current talents. Draw out the sword, Harry. See the man that you have become."

A cold sweat broke out, leaving Harry's hands feeling decidedly clammy. His legs shaky, Harry walked over to the Hat, inserting his hand into the shadow that awaited it. He fished around for a moment, then stopped, feeling cold metal at his fingertips.

And with a great heave, Harry drew out the sword. The blade was _huge_, much larger than before. Six feet in length, it gleamed in the bright light, reflecting a thousand facets of colour and brilliance. The flat runes spelling out the name of Godric Gryffindor were still present, and the ruby-encrusted hilt felt perfect in his trained grip. Harry exhaled the breath that he had long held in. "Wizard…"

"Runefang, sword of Gryffindor," Dumbledore spoke, his voice ringing around the room. "Godric was the finest warrior wizardingkind ever saw, blending magic and his martial prowess to defeat his enemies. No Muggle, wizard or daemon could stand against his might, and he was an honest defender of truth and good. A true knight, one of the only."

Harry gave the sword a few practice slashes, and was immediately impressed. The blade was perfectly balanced, and extraordinarily light, no doubt a property of the runes engraved into the flat of the blade. He placed Runefang in its scabbard over his back, the huge weapon nearly his height.

He breathed a deep sigh of fulfillment. He was ready. His mind was sharp, his body was mostly in good repair, and his spirit was strong. And all the evil in the world would quake at the coming of the Champions.

Dumbledore raised his voice in proclamation, filled with pride. "The Order awaits you, Champions. Go forth and bring victory for the Light. Demonstrate our resolve to the enemy. Bring hope to the world once more." Tears formed in the Headmaster's eyes. "Good luck."


	17. Brothers in Arms

**Chapter 17: Brothers in Arms**

An ocean away, the five mages met once more within the Chamber of Life, their forms still insubstantial under their dark robes and cloaks. Normally, the Chamber would be abuzz with activity, with Shadow Hunters, Spirit Walkers and other spellcasters training amongst the high grasses and ivy-covered pillars. But now, it was silent, save for the quiet discussion amongst the chosen five, the most experienced of the Council of Gaea, representing five of the most powerful castes in the land. The Shadow Hunters. The Spirit Walkers. The Priests of Gaea. The court of the High Elves. The minotaur tribes.

"Damn Fudge to the abyss!" the first mage shouted, fire flaring at his fingertips. "Does he not know what is at stake? Can not even the presence of necromancy rouse him from his stupor? We should have deposed of him a long time ago!"

"No doubt your Shadow Hunters are quite capable to the task, Magnus," the second mage grunted, shifting his mighty bulk. "No force can stand against the holy warriors of Gaea, and the Aurors are no exception. I enjoy a good bloodletting as much as any warrior, but the Ministry, corrupt as it may be, has its uses."

"We need Fudge in power, because if he should die, Voldemort would no doubt take the opportunity to exploit the chaos, and cause even more damage," the third mage said, a lock of fiery hair emerging from beneath her hood. Her sharp eyebrows rose as she looked at the others. "Voldemort first. Fudge later."

The fourth mage laughed, pounding his root-claw hand into an open palm. "Yes, and once the foul one has been slain, we will have no more use for Fudge or his incompetent Ministry. My caste has not forgotten the crimes his government dealt us all those centuries ago, the purges, the discrimination, the paranoia. The faith in the merciful Earthmother would have died had we stayed on that chilly island. Our armies are without equal, save those of the Dark Lord. Have we not the sharp blades of the Shadow Hunters at our side?"

"Yes, Avarat, we do," the fifth mage replied, his yellow eyes burning bright with warpstone. "However, I feel it that it would be best to concentrate on the task at hand. My Spirit Walkers have mediated for over a fortnight now, trying to locate the Death Eaters, trying to determine the outcomes of battles. We can stay five steps ahead of the enemy with such advantages. Still, the dark presence lingers, and we must stop it before more innocents are killed."

"The influence of the Darkness has waxed strong," said the first mage. "We cannot idly stand by while wizarding Britain is gripped in anarchy. It is time for us to take a more active role in this war, we cannot wait on Fudge any longer."

"What would you have us do, Magnus?" the third mage asked. "My people will aid you, of course, but mobilizing the full host of the Asur will take some time."

"Not that your infantry would be any use in a commando raid, Evelas," the second mage reminded her. "A full-scale engagement, perhaps, but not a quick strike. Your mages would be helpful, however." He shook his head, his horns rattling. "The same can be said of the clans. My people are not built for stealth."

"The Shadow Hunters can carry the bulk of our contribution, Bloodstone, I hope," the first mage assured them, left hand caressing his sword-hilt. "But enough talk. Tonight, I intend to see the one wizard that can be trusted, Albus Dumbledore. Together, the Shadow Hunters and the Order of the Phoenix will fight the Dark Lord, and end his terrible reign. The presence of necromancy is an affront to Gaea, one of the greatest of heresies. A squad of warriors waits outside. Farewell, my friends. I shall contact you when my mission is complete."

"Wait!" the third mage shouted. "I shall go with you, Magnus. The Asur also deserve a say in these negotiations, and you may need additional protection against the Death Eaters."

"I shall come as well," the second mage declared, gripping the hilt of his warhammer, the brutal weapon peeking from his robes. "I haven't had a good killing in a while!"

The first mage considered these requests for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, my friends. Seros, Avarat, it shall be your duty to inform the rest of the Council. Now, let us go. We go to war."

* * *

Avalon drifted silently through a world of pain. Every bone in her body ached, and her temples throbbed, pounding like steel drums. She tried moving, her muscles unresponsive. Water lapped all around her still form, its freezing touch biting her alabaster skin. She moaned in pain as the icy liquid touched her breast, every shiver triggering the pain of her broken ribs. For what seemed like an eternity, she floated, body battered and beaten, drowning in hurt and dark memories. The ghosts of the past called out to her, laughing and mocking her misfortune.

"_You stupid bitch,"_ came the voice of her father, his perpetually alcohol-laced breath on her neck. _"I go through all the trouble of sending you to school, and this is what you get! Fails! Skipped tests! You stupid little whore, how the hell do you explain this? You call yourself a witch? You're nothing more than a goddamned Squib!"_

Her father. For sixteen years, she had dealt with his drunkenness, his brutality, his paranoid loathing for his only daughter. His every drunken rant about her behaviour was accompanied by a slap, and he exploded at her nearly every day. Her father, the shallowest man she had ever met, pissing away his money on booze and cheap whores, the disgusting rhythm of his bed frame quaking keeping her up at night.

The voice came again, "_Stupid slut! You're no better than your mother, a goddamned bed-hopper. The bitch left my life after I ploughed her, then came back with you! God, you're a burden. She didn't know her place, and neither do you!_"

Her mother. Pitiful, obese, meek. Allowing her father to trample over her heart and self-esteem, while never raising a hand or her voice to defend herself or her daughter. She came back after Avalon was born, only to endure a grim marriage full of abuse and suffering. It was not uncommon for her to go to work sporting a plethora of bruises, occasionally broken bones. Once, after dropping his dinner all over the floor, her father had turned on her in a drunken rage, breaking her jaw and throwing her out of the house. She never came back. Avalon was only six then, and for years she would cry at night, wondering what became of her mother. Most likely, she was dead, or working in a cheap whorehouse, peddling her body for starvation wages.

"_What man would want you, tramp? What poor bastard would debase himself by fucking you?_" She was sixteen, and her father had caught a glimpse of her naked body in the shower, then began taunting her and her unattractive frame. "_A real man likes a woman with some meat on her bones, with some tits. You're never going to get a boy with those tiny things._" He laughed even harder as she burst into tears.

_It's using my memories against me_, Avalon realized, trying to drive out the voice of her father. _The evil is using my fears and memories to beat me_. "It won't work," she croaked into the darkness. "You'll never win. I won't let you."

'_You do not have a choice, mortal,'_ the dark voice came with a harsh, booming laugh, deep and disembodied. _'You've already lost. How long can you stand against me? How long can you resist, before your sanity breaks down?'_

"Long enough," she replied boldly. "You're just a phantom, a fading image of what I have seen. You will not be able to hold on for long."

'_You fear me.'_

"As I would fear falling from a high cliff. Yet, I must face that fear, and overcome it. The Earthmother gives me strength, and I will not fall."

Another wicked laugh. _'Fool. Your precious Gaea is nowhere to be found. She will not help you. She will not stand against the Dark Gods. We are locked away now, girl, bound and chained in shadow and flame. But we are coming. And you cannot resist. The memory of your false goddess will burn, and Chaos will rule.'_

"Lies," Avalon spat. "You will not break me, daemon. Gaea is my armour, and my faith in her is strong. My soul is pure. Your venomous words shall not sway me."

_'Is it, mortal? Is it really? You killed those Aurors. Did those skills in Legimency of yours hear their screams as they died? And, oh yes, this Shadow Hunter, this Stormfury. Do you lust after him? Do you desire him? In your darkest fantasies, do you picture him ravishing you, filling your pathetic mortal womb with his seed, drawing blood as he punctures you? Do you enjoy the pain he causes as he steals your purity? Or are you even pure to begin with?'_

"Go away," Avalon whimpered, focusing her mental powers, trying to block the voice out. "Begone."

_'You are weak, girl. Far too weak. My brothers and I have plans for this world, and once we are successful, your soul will be mine. Goodbye, mortal. Enjoy your lover, while you can.'_ And then, the presence was gone.

The freezing cold brought the Spirit Walker to her senses again, and she slowly began to move her aching limbs. Avalon cried out in pain as she rolled up onto her back, her broken ribs scraping her side. She hurt like hell, but she was alive, and the dark presence that triggered this whole disaster had left. A brief smile crossed her lips, but then faded as she looked around her.

Blackness. Sheer and utter blackness. She was virtually blind, no source of light to reveal the dank hell she was immersed in. Groping around frantically, her hands slapping against stone walls, curving about her. Broken masonry lay at her feet in six inches of ice-cold water. She shook uncontrollably, now totally drenched, her robes sticking to her skin, a shroud of chill. The petite Spirit Walker tried to stop the rising fear, but it broke through as she realized her predicament. She was in the bottom of an ancient well, placed here long before the Ministry of Magic was established, cloaked in darkness. She tried to focus, but couldn't. She couldn't see!

Almost instinctively, the rational part of her mind rose to the surface, her fear instincts shutting down. She began to meditate, her breathing becoming calm, slow, deep. Her heart rate slowed down, and she started thinking, pondering, hoping to discover a means of escape. Focus, Avalon. Find a way out.

Despite her mental exhaustion, she focused, probing out with her telepathic energies, seeing through the crumbling stone that barred her from freedom. Catacombs, all around this place! she realized, a spark of hope flaring. Escape!

Avalon pushed, her mind straining against the moss-covered bricks and rotten mortar. With a sold thud, a small section of the well shaft crumbled open, the faintest breeze kissing her face. Swallowing her apprehension, the Spirit Walker followed the fresh air, squeezing into the opening and crawling through the cramped tunnels.

If anything, the total darkness was worse in her than in the well. Avalon chanted soothing phrases to herself as she continued, ignoring the pain of her various wounds. Taking a left, the tunnel began to slope upwards, a relief to her. Up meant towards the surface, the streets of London…and patrolling Aurors. Feeling that any port in a storm was good, she kept crawling, eager to escape this claustrophobic prison.

A floor panel. Avalon paused as she pushed the heavy stone block, her petite frame quaking with the effort. What lay beyond, in the light she could see filtering through the cracks? Liberty or death?

With a scream of rage, Avalon threw the panel aside, her telekinetic powers hurling the half-tonne stone like a bath sponge. Thin arms wriggled up, and she broke the surface like a diver, gasping for air, her body heaving with each breath. She rested for a moment, laying her head down on the smooth marble floors, her robes soiled with dirt and ice water.

Her vision began to spin, and Avalon tensed up, realizing that the room was, in fact, rotating. The entire chamber was black, lined with identical, unmarked doors, the faint sapphire light of candles barely illuminating the area.

She was in the Department of Mysteries.

Stone ground against stone, and the rotation of the room stopped, leaving her with a dozen doors to choose from. Heading back down into the catacombs was out of the question, with no maps or extensive knowledge of the tunnel system to guide her. I might have tripped the wards as well. Focus. Find the exit.

Avalon felt her body melt away in the trance, moving of its own accord. She sighed, her breathing deep and slow, hands feeling the door, tracing the stone seal. A quick push, and she exited the antechamber, soft whispers playing on her ears. Her vision took a hazy, dream-like quality, the voices growing loud and more insistent. She had no idea where she was going, but walked on nonetheless, goaded on by the rush of voices filling her head.

The volume increased, and Avalon felt the first tinges of discomfort. "Why are you frightened?" she asked them, receiving no response save more cacophony. "What troubles you, spirits?" Creeping silently into the next room, she halted, seeing the source of the whispers.

_The veil._

Mounted upon the raised dais, the archway stood imposingly in the centre of the room, the veil floating on a non-existent breeze. The whispers came again, emerging from beyond the dark curtain, and Avalon shuddered, feeling their pain. "Something's wrong, isn't there? Something has disturbed you."

Voices replied in pleading tones, wordless yet stricken with horror. Avalon swallowed, fear creeping up her spine, ascending the marble stairs up the dais, reaching a hand out tentatively. A calming mantra escaped her lips, and, in a slow, deliberate gesture, plunged her arm through the curtain.

Mind-numbing cold seized her, and Avalon felt the spirits of the dead claw away at her arm, the limb slowly dying. She directed her telepathic powers to the area, driving back the ghosts, but the chill remained, seeping into her soul. The world was one of shadow, a mirror image of the physical, and her mind was flooded with the memories of the fallen, the events of their deaths replayed over and over again.

An electric shock ran through her body, and she withdrew her arm, not even bothering to notice that the limb was left unharmed. As her mind searched through the murky depths of the archway, she had felt…unsettled. A kind of void existed in the beyond, something that could not be filled or replaced, a piece of the puzzle forever gone.

"They stole a soul."

Before Avalon could mull over the mystery, a callused hand gripped her by the throat, cutting off her air. "And what are you are doing here, Spirit Walker?"

* * *

Harry knelt down on the snow, beckoned by the anxious gestures of the Auror scout. His boots crunched on the fallen powder, and he instinctively seized the hilt of Runefang. "What's wrong?" he whispered, peering through the darkened branches of the Forbidden Forest, the frightening woods covered in a soft layer of white. "Has the scout seen something?"

Stormfury turned to him, blue eyes diamond-hard. "Stay down, Mr. Potter. We're just taking a precaution. Earlier, I sent a reconnaissance party forward, looking for any signs of the captives. They were supposed to meet us here. They haven't."

Not for the first time, Harry remarked, "I don't like leaving Cho out here. Her escorts may be good, but this is-"

"There is no time for this," Stormfury growled. "We all understand that you care for Miss Chang deeply, but your lovestruck complaints are doing us no good. She is much stronger than you would have yourself believe, Mr. Potter. She is a Champion, after all."

A meaty hand clamped Harry on the shoulder, causing his knees to buckle. "Don't worry, 'Arry," Hagrid said, trying to comfort the obviously concerned Gryffindor. "She'll be fine."

Harry sighed, disappointed with himself, raising his eyes towards a clouded winter sky. I know I shouldn't be babying her like this, but…she just means so much to me. He had left her alone at Hogsmeade, and the results were disastrous. In truth, she by herself now, with a squad of Order members assigned to guard her, but Harry hated taking that risk. Please stay safe, Cho. The energies of Gryffindor grew warm in his belly; the first radiant sparks of power flowing through his blood.

The young Gryffindor pushed aside thoughts of Cho for a moment, concentrating on the force that dwelled in his soul. The power. The energies of Gryffindor. At first, it was at best disconcerting, at worst terrifying. After a while, he began to get used to it, and now that it had sparked, and the full strength of the magic unlocked, he began to feel more secure with it. The raging torrent of power had past, and now it lay almost obediently, waiting for his beck and call. He wondered if he could control it, shape it to suit his needs, and use its power on a whim. Probably not now, but later, with time and concentration, it was possible.

His thoughts whirled, and he imagined what he could do with this. With the power of Godric seeded in his blood, what force could face him or the other Champions? In his mind's eye, Harry pictured his triumphs. He would face Voldemort, and kill the snake-skinned bastard who had brought so much misery to this world. He would avenge Sirius, Cedric, his parents, Amos Diggory, the dead of Hogsmeade, the countless wizards and Muggles who had died in both wars. Every rape, every torture, every murder would be paid back in the blood of the Dark Lord's armies. Lestrange. Pettigrew. Nott. Crabbe. Goyle. Macnair. All dead, due to his righteous fury. The darkness would burn in the fires of Gryffindor, and be consumed, never to threaten the world again.

And why stop there? The Ministry, corrupt, bloated, arrogant. While the Aurors and Ministry Guard brutalized innocent civilians and crushed dissent, Fudge and his cronies allowed the Death Eaters to ravage wizarding Britain at their leisure. While innocent men were thrown in Azkaban on trumped-up charges, deprived of life and liberty, those openly baring the Dark Mark were allowed their freedom, spreading their hatred and bile, funding the butchering of countless men, women and children, all while maintaining lavish lifestyles and a sense of aristocracy above the common citizen. While magical society disintegrated into chaos, paranoia and hopelessness, the Minister wallowed in the trough of corruption, feeding off the spirit of an entire nation. Is it any wonder that Voldemort had been allowed to live this long? Why his evil has been permitted to continue, to perpetuate itself?

Well, no more. He was going to kill Voldemort, and finish the job this time. The name of Voldemort would be nothing, just a scary tale to frighten small children into going to bed. And then, Harry Potter was going to do something about the root of this problem, the festering parasite that had bled the country dry in the name of his own power. The Ministry of Magic. Dammit, Sirius, you deserved better than that, to lose most of your adult life in prison.

Harry stopped himself, shocked by what he had just considered. Open rebellion against the Ministry of Magic? Sure, Fudge was power-hungry and the Ministry itself was a cesspool of greed and inequity. But war against one of the strongest magical governments in the world? Many would die, on both sides. The conflict could spread over to the Muggle world, and the country would be torn in two. Was he willing to do such a thing? To send thousands of people to their deaths, just because of a personal vendetta? Could he order Cho onto the front lines, and sacrifice herself for his own ideals?

_Did Voldemort ever face this decision?_ Harry asked himself. Did he strive for something seemingly noble, something good, only to be twisted into something evil? Perhaps Riddle even studied the Dark Arts for honest purposes, trying to find a way to beat them, instead becoming corrupted by the seductive power and turning Dark himself.

_The power,_ Harry realized. Both he and Voldemort had received something powerful, Harry through birth, Riddle through study and investigation. Harry made up his mind, then and there. He was not going to allow his power to overcome his reason. He used the energies of Gryffindor because it was necessary, because he had no other choice. Voldemort was beyond redemption, and Harry would destroy him in the end, and fulfill the doom that had been prophesied twice. But he would not kill and destroy simply because he could. And that made him different from Voldemort.

Rustling sounded from the nearby thickets, and the Auror scout leapt towards the position of the squad. "New contacts, over to the north. They just Apparated in, a few dozen of them."

"Death Eaters?" Stormfury asked, drawing his blade, a wicked smile on his face. Harry could see that the Shadow Hunter was eager for battle, and didn't know what concerned him more, a possible Death Eater ambush, or the reappearance of Stormfury's blood-lust in the midst of that ambush.

The Auror shook his head. He had been running, judging by his sweat-covered brow and gasping breaths. "Couldn't tell. It's as dark as hell out here, and I didn't want to give us away."

Beside Harry, Fleur Delacoeur gave a sigh of exasperation. "_Debiles!_ Don't 'zey teach you stupid Aurors anything? We are vasting time 'ere. Hurry, _tout le monde, un petit charme_. Use a Night Vision Charm. Then, we may 'zee the enemy as 'zey advance."

"Agreed," Stormfury said, his voice cold and deadly. "This may be our only opportunity to discover the location of the prisoners. If they are Death Eaters, then we shall give them a friendly welcome with hexes and steel." Grunts and growls of approval sounded from the squad, and they hastily set about readying for an ambush. Fleur raised her wand, muttering a barely audible incantation, a jet of blue light landing between Harry's eyes. He blinked, and the world turned luminous green, the darkest corners of the forest illuminated, every hillock and tree-root visible before him.

"Thanks," he whispered, smiling in satisfaction. The Night Vision Charm would give him one hell of an advantage if anything broke out in the darkness.

Fleur blushed, the elegant quarter-veela flexing her wand arm. "You're welcome, 'Arry. Now, we wait."

The entire squad hunkered down, listening to the multitude of footfalls coming closer to their position. These people, whoever they were, were not particularly interested or concerned with stealth. Harry heard branches snap underfoot, the tinkle of ice shattering, and a whining immature voice cursing the tough conditions. With barely a whisper, he drew Runefang, the enchanted blade glowing palely despite the absence of natural light. A reaction to Dark magic maybe? Harry wondered, seeing the first figure come into view, sharply dressed in battle robes. _Wait for it…_

"Hello?" came a voice in the distance. "Helloooooo? Damn you, Pieter, go see what's up there. I can't see a blasted thing in this godforsaken Forest. Why hasn't Dumbledore just cut it down? It's a hazard, Dolores, an utter deathtrap!"

Harry laughed under his breath. Whoever these guys were, they weren't Death Eaters, without a doubt. He paused for a moment, listening to the distant figure rant and complain to his fellows. _Dolores? Oh, no…_

Stormfury must have been thinking along the same lines as Harry, for he rose out of cover, chanting softly, fire forming at his fingertips. "Step forth and reveal yourselves, newcomers!" his deep voice boomed, echoing through the woods. "You are surrounded. Sheath your wands and move forward. Who be ye?"

The entire search party groaned under their breath as Cornelius Fudge waddled through the maze of dead branches and snowdrifts, his fat cheeks burning red from the exertion. Accompanied by his closest cronies and a score of Ministry Guardsmen, the Minister of Magic stopped to catch his breath, noticing the burly Shadow Hunter eying him like a piece of rotten meat. "Ah, some sign of life, at last! Good evening, sir, I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. I-"

"I know who you are, Minister," Stormfury retorted, sneering nastily at Fudge, the grip on his blade not loosening for an instant. "What are you doing here?"

Fudge paled at the Shadow Hunter's directness, but replied with forced courtesy. "I was actually on my way to see Dumbledore. For some reason, we were unable to Apparate at the castle itself, so now we must trudge through this wilderness," he said, grimacing at the dense woodland.

Harry took a look at the scene before him, curiosity overcoming his desire to avoid a confrontation with Fudge. The Minister was not alone in his wanderings. To his left stood Dolores Umbridge, the foul toad whining piteously, obviously intimidated by the presence of Stormfury. Percy was there too, staring at the Order accusingly behind his horn-rimmed glasses, his red hair slicked back in a manner that reminded him of Snape. The usual assortment of Fudge's fawning supplicants and minions were present, along with a score of Ministry Guardsmen, their green cloaks wrapped tightly to ward off the chill. Each held their wand in a professional grip, analyzing the newcomers like hungry wolves. They were hard-bitten fighting wizards, and Harry resolved to keep an eye on them.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Fudge declared triumphantly, shaking Harry's hand with excess gusto. "How are you? What brings you to this rotten place?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A deaf man could detect the hint of malice beneath Fudge's words, the past history between the two not forgotten. First and foremost, however, Fudge was a politician. The brutal Death Eater assault on Hogsmeade had roused the public from its stupor, forcing the Minister to act quickly. By now, some word of Harry's exploits had reached the ears of the populace, and Fudge was merely biding his time, trying to determine which way the wind blew before making a move. While the greedy man shook his hand and embraced him like a son now, Harry had no doubt that he would stick a knife in his back, or throw him into the Ministry cells if it gave him a political advantage. Harry met his feigned smile with one of his own, ever aware of the time they were wasting. "Hello, Minister. So good of you to come calling."

"You did not answer the Minister's question!" shouted a thin-faced Ministry Guardsman, stepping forward in a provoking manner. "What are you doing out here?"

The man faltered, stopped dead in his tracks by Hagrid's menacing stare, the half-giant stroking the butt of his crossbow. "That's enough, Pieter," Fudge said softly, slightly nervous of the large number of armed wizards surrounding him. His gaze fell on Harry, his scarlet dragonhide robes, his intense gaze, and the mighty blade of Runefang sheathed across his back. "You look certainly dashing, Mr. Potter. Are you going to visit a certain lady friend?"

Harry sighed. He obviously didn't get it. "We are here searching for missing students, Minister. Several of the Gryffindors were captured during the battle, and we intend to find them."

Percy's jaw dropped, and Umbridge stared at Harry, terrified recognition coming over her. Fudge cleared his throat, hoping to avoid any conflict with the Order. "Ah! Very well then. Best of luck to you, Harry. Once my business with Dumbledore is done, I shall send all the aid you require. Now, Pieter, let's head for the castle. Pieter?"

Pieter Ramoras didn't reply, mainly due to the barbed crossbow bolt jutting through his Adam's apple. The Ministry Guard Commander dropped, and a hail of quarrels scythed through the trees, steel tips glinting in Harry's enhanced vision, falling randomly amongst both the Order and Fudge's troops, burrowing deep into flesh.

"AMBUSH!" Stormfury screamed, drawing his sword and throwing Harry to the ground. The Order scattered like shocked rabbits, and cadres of cloaked figures ran out from the cover of the brush, drawing menacing curved knives, hurling themselves towards Harry's position. They wore ebony Death Eater masks shrouded in black ninja cowls, and a small armoury of close-combat weapons at their belts. Not a sound they uttered, but their blades spoke their deadly intent. That was all Harry got a chance to see as the first ranks slammed into the Aurors, Order and Ministry Guard, knives slashing.

One of the cloaked assassins leapt in front of Harry, jabbing his blades forward in short, professional thrusts. Harry parried with Runefang, swinging the heavier weapon in a lethal arc towards his chest. The assassin back-pedalled then leapt up, kicking Harry in the chest, bowling him over. The attacker leapt, and Harry raised his blade skyward, impaling the man through his torso, thick red blood pouring out onto the snow. Wrenching the sword free, Harry blocked the next assassin's strike, riposting and tearing out the man's throat.

Stormfury was like lightning, his strong blows smashing through an attacker's defences. Running the man through, the Shadow Hunter delivered a brutal kick to his side, accompanied by a kneecap cracking. With a brutal roundhouse kick, he snapped the second man's neck, before cleaving yet another foe in twain. A bowstring hissed, and one of the assassins fell to Hagrid's crossbow, the mighty half-giant holstering the weapon then leaping forward, crushing ribs and banging heads together.

Green light blasted from the trees, and three-dozen Death Eater regulars charged. Harry's blood boiled, seeing Bellatrix Lestrange in command, screaming a banshee cry as she fired off a curse, killing one of the Order. His green eyes filled with hatred, Harry stormed towards the Death Eaters, screaming a frantic battle cry. The energies of Gryffindor roared along with him, and the Death Eaters turned to run, seeing the first tendrils of red energy forming around the young man's body.

Too late. The energies of Gryffindor burst forth, overwhelming four Death Eaters, burning them to ash. Harry leapt through the haze of smoke, driving his ancient blade through a man. Wrenching Runefang free with a sickening squelch, he ducked an overhead blow, cutting a Death Eater's legs from out under him. A quick spin of the sword, and another foe fell, screaming in agony, trying to keep his entrails from spilling out of his body.

One unfortunate Death Eater lunged forward with a knife, his eyes reflecting shock as the pig-iron dagger bounced off the Champion's dragonhide robes. Harry returned the treatment several times over, decapitating the enemy wizard with a vengeful cry, showered in crimson spray. Harry raised a hand, the energies of Gryffindor forming on the palm, feeding on his hate. Red fire exploded outwards, taking the form of a lion before savagely rending three Death Eaters limbs from limb. Even without looking at the Order, Harry could tell that they were in trouble. The screams of dying Ministry Guardsmen and the bellow of curses attributed to that. He was on his own.

The glint of metal flashed in the corner of Harry's eye, and he instinctively brought up his sword, the nasty-looking shriuken ricocheting off the blade, sparks flying. More Nagarythe stormed into the clearing, the majority heading towards the embattled Order, whilst three of the number silently advanced towards Harry, bright, malevolent eyes staring at the Champion.

They came at him with incredible speed, the whine of their blades cutting through the cold air. Desperately, Harry parried these strikes, ducking an overhead blow so close it sliced off a lock of hair. All of the previous summer's training was put to the test in this frantic duel, and he was losing. Stars flashed in his vision, product of a brutal kick to the face. Harry staggered back, blocking a thrust, only to receive another blow to the back.

Anger gave him strength, and he rolled away, his sword rolling with him, cutting an assassin across the chest. A deft twist, and Harry brought Runefang through the man's body, the momentum of the swing bringing the sword behind him, blocking another strike. The Death Eater gave a croak of dismay, silenced by Harry driving Gryffindor's prized weapon into his gullet.

More Death Eaters came, with another Nagarythe, asking for death, and Harry was more than welcome to oblige. Runefang sang its bloody song, hacking limbs left and right, red snow trampled underfoot. Leaping aside to avoid a Killing Curse, Harry thrust Runefang into the crotch of the guilty party, agonized screams rattling the others for a moment. Fiery-red tendrils emerged from the aura around Harry's body, slapping the Death Eaters aside like toys, throttling the life from them, dashing their brains out against rocks. Harry laughed insanely, summoning the energies of Gryffindor to him, burning another trio to ash. God, how he loved killing! To hear the crack of bone, see the spray of blood, as rich and thick as communion wine! He was drunk with the power, and loved every moment of it.

The rational part of Harry's mind took over, and he became dimly aware of the mound of corpses strewn all around him, both Nagarythe and Death Eater regulars laid low by the power of the Champion of Gryffindor. Only one foe remained to face him, a lone assassin, twin blades raised in a fighting stance. The man's eyes bored through Harry's soul, and a barely audible serpent hiss slithered from his throat.

"So, you feel like dying too?" Harry asked.

Hissing venomously, the assassin struck, a streak of black. Harry raised his sword to parry…

…another roar came nearby, a Death Eater, wand upraised. "Avada Keda­-"…

…Harry twisting his body, trying to avoid the lunging knives and the eventual curse…

…the blue-fletched arrow, streaking across his vision like a heavenly thunderbolt, hitting the Death Eater regular's forehead, blood flowing from the cracks in the mask…

Stunned by the death of his comrade, the assassin slowed. Harry seized the initiative, bringing Runefang down in a massive slash, slicing through the upraised knives and the assassin's head. His eyes widened with horror as a sickly green fluid poured from the shattered daggers, eating away at the body of the attacker, melting through muscle and bone like butter. Instantly glad he hadn't suffered a blow from the arcane weapons, Harry backed away, noticing the oak shaft that took down the ambushing Death Eater.

Three more arrows flitted into the night, finding targets fighting the Order. Two Death Eaters keeled over, while a third crawled away, mortally wounded with a shaft in his abdomen. Cho leapt over the nearby ridge, notching another arrow to the bow of Stormcrow, sighting down the fletched oak projectile, the bowstring pulled back to her ear. Taking several deep breaths, she let fly, her statuesque posture never wavering as the bowstring grazed the leather bracer on her left forearm. Harry could barely track the missile's movement before it impaled a Nagarythe warrior through the base of the neck. He saw Cho swallow with revulsion at what she had just done, but the beautiful Ravenclaw kept it in check, taking out another Death Eater.

"Now, hit 'em, Aurors!" Tonks shouted, joining Cho up atop the ridge. A dozen wands flashed red sparks, and Death Eaters fell stunned, the skilled Auror company drawing the enemy fire and thinning their ranks. Outflanked, the remaining Death Eaters began to fall back, cut down by a combination Cho's arrows, the curses of the Order and the Aurors, and the energies of Gryffindor. The Nagarythe were another matter, the fanatical assassins holding their ground, dying to the last man, taking out a good number of Ministry Guardsmen with them. Finally, a lull in the fighting came as the final assassin was sliced open by Stormfury's blade, the wearied forces of the Light catching their breath from the sudden assault.

Harry and Cho reunited with the rest of the Order, the scattered units coming together, drawn by the orange flare of the Phoenix Mark. Shouldering her enchanted weapon, Cho inspected Harry's wounds, a relieved smile crawling across her face. "Nothing major, just some bruises," she reported, eyes dark with worry. "That might have only been a first wave. There are probably more out here. Did we lose anyone?"

The Champion of Gryffindor turned his attention to the blood-soaked scene, tallying the butcher's bill. Voldemort's forces had suffered heavily, over thirty-five Death Eaters and Nagarythe assassins cut down on the snow, blasted with curses and sliced apart by the twin blades of Harry and Stormfury. However, the Order did not go unscathed. Eight volunteers lay dead, six wounded, the latter being tended to by the Order's field Healers. The Ministry forces escorting Fudge had borne the brunt of the Nagarythe charge, thirteen Ministry Guard Aurors and four of Fudge's cronies slaughtered, the iron-hard discipline of the Aurors no match for the unusual weapons of Voldemort's assassins. Other units of Order members began to filter in, each telling the same story, ambushed by Death Eaters and assassins, barely managing to hold them off. Some patrols had not even returned, a definite cause for concern. "Have you seen Blaise?" Harry asked, his moist breath frosting up his glasses.

Cho shook her head. "No, not since we were split up." She paused, formulating her next words carefully. "She is a Champion, Harry, I'm certain she's alright. Worrying about her won't help us find Ron and Hermione."

She has a point, Harry told himself. They needed to focus on the mission, and Cho's valour during the assault had destroyed any vestiges of doubt in his mind. "You're right. Excellent shooting, by the way."

The Ravenclaw beauty smiled with genuine appreciation. "Why, thank you Harry. You did quite well yourself, if your appearance is any indication."

Harry took a moment to examine his attire; the crimson battle robes an even darker red as a result of arterial spray. Runefang was likewise caked with gore, and Harry began to shake slightly, the full impact of his magic-fuelled bloodlust now fully revealed. Had he really enjoying killed those people?

His Slytherin side manifested itself, squelching his misgivings. The men he had killed were Death Eaters, murderers, butchers and thugs. And he would kill every single one of them if it meant keeping his friends safe. There was no other alternative. He held Cho's hands comfortingly, as Stormfury walked up, blue eyes filled with shining exhilaration.

"We continue!" the Shadow Hunter barked, causing no shortage of eyes to turn in his direction. "The time for mourning has not come. We will push on, and drive these scum from the forest. The hostages will be liberated, and these ancient stones and oaks will gorge on the blood of Death Eater heretics. Minister Fudge, our course is set, and you shall not impede us further."

Stormfury's last words fell on deaf ears, the craven Minister of Magic and his entourage fleeing in the direction of Hogwarts, the hurried sounds of their flight like a crash of rhinos barrelling through the forest.

"Cowards," Stormfury muttered under his breath. Ahead, an Order sentry gave a cry, and the Shadow Hunter raised his sword like a banner. "Here they come again! Advance, warriors of the Light! The spirit of Gaea watches over you, and your courage will bring victory against the Darkness. For Hogsmeade! Death is on the wind!"

A mighty scream shook the roots of the Forbidden Forest, filled with hate and anguish, and Harry felt himself join in, the energies of Gryffindor feeding his spirit with power. Cho screamed like a banshee, caught up in the desire for vengeance, and the entire Order threw themselves forward, hexes flying, spittle cast into the breeze.

The Death Eaters roared their challenge, pouring out of the rows of trees like maggots coming to feast on a rotting corpse. The air between the two sides with thick with curses, red and green light shrieking like lost souls, smiting Auror and Death Eater alike. The Order split, one half taking cover and offering suppressive fire, whilst the other slammed into the Death Eater ranks, the impact a thunderclap, Harry, Cho and Stormfury at their head.

Runefang whistled, and a Death Eater fell, decapitated. Three arrows shot forward from Stormcrow, and more collapsed, slain by Cho's accurate archery. Keeping pace with Harry, Cho drew her katana, matching her lover blow for blow, the duo a whirlwind of cold steel. Men and women on both sides died, wailing in agony, both neither gave ground. The clamour of war was soon drowned out, however, by even more hideous sounds from the dark.

* * *

Voldemort ignored the sounds of battle echoing throughout the Forbidden Forest, flipping the pages of the daemonic tome before him. Clawed fingers traced the hellish symbols of Chaos with a loving touch, and the Dark Lord's blood-red eyes glowed with glee as he imagined the possibilities. It was by these means that the Lord Kharaidon communed with his servant, and how the Dark Gods spread their dread influence. They had been forgotten, all memory erased for generations, the might of the daemonlords overshadowed by the mortal Dark Arts. But that time was almost at an end.

Around the Dark Lord, the captives had been assembled, fourteen in total, including some of the missing Auror scout party. The helpless prisoners screamed as the Death Eaters tortured them, writing under the effects of a variety of curses. His thoughts turned to Granger and Weasley, still bound in the depths of the Forest, bait for the irresistible trap. _Yes, Potter, search for your friends. You'll be able to see them one last time before I send your soul screaming into the Realm of Chaos._

With a snap of his fingers, Riddle ordered his servants forward, holding stone pots filled with the blood of freshly slaughtered lambs. Drawing a brush, they went to work, painting the malevolent Mark of Chaos onto the foreheads and chests of the captives. A Death Eater stood over each, drawing a barbed knife, holding the wicked blades above their heads, waiting for the signal.

Holding his arms above him, Voldemort began to chant, dictating the incantations of the tome. Around the copse, eight Death Eaters took up great drums, beating the skins made of human flesh, all the while the house-elf Kreacher danced himself into a frenzy on another, yellow eyes filled with malice. The air thrummed with the reverberation of the drums, the bass notes in time with the Dark Lord's casting. He tasted copper on his lips, the stigmata of the dark magic flowing as he chanted.

"Lord Kharaidon, God of War, Master of Slaughter, Daemonlord of Chaos, greatest of the Eight," Voldemort boomed, red eyes burning with dark power, his words growing with strength and intensity. "Heed the pleas of your humble servant. Send forth your warriors to aid me. Send forth the avatars of Chaos. This sacrifice is but a pale shadow of the power you shall receive, and for each heart slain here, a hundred more will die in your name! Send forth the warriors of the Dark Gods! Aid me!"

Fourteen Death Eaters screamed praises to Kharaidon, and fourteen knives slammed into the hearts of the captives, buried up to their hilts. The blood gushed forth like a well, and Voldemort felt the power rush over him in a wave, the death-energies joining with his own magic to fuel the spell. With a dramatic flourish, the Dark Lord cupped his hands together, the incantation coming fast and furious now. "Arise, warriors of the Dark Gods! Arise! Bring swift death to this realm! Come!"

The burst of light was so intense that many of the Death Eaters fell screaming, their retinas literally burned away. The earth shook, and the rift opened not more ten feet away from the Dark Lord, hovering in mid-air like some bloody eye. The swirling vortex gaped open wider, and several Death Eaters were dragged into the portal by invisible claws and talons. As they hit the event horizon, the unfortunate souls melted, gobbles of flesh running like water, drowning in the depths of entropy.

And from the open rift, a clawed grey hand emerged, followed by another, then a skeletal head, the first of the daemons touching mortal soil. Others followed, giving unearthly growls and chuckles, observing with soulless black eyes the plane of existence they had long desired. While they crouched and stalked on all fours, they could ascend on two legs, their limbs thin and bony, topped with vicious clawed hands. Their long, twig-like fingers and protruding ribcages made them appear weak and fragile, but the aura they resonated was one of strength. Death Eaters fell back before them as they formed up in front of Voldemort, paper-thin flesh stretched over their skulls. The portal slammed shut with a resounding crack, but Voldemort paid no heed, looking over his master's gift with pride.

"Go forth, my hellblazers," Voldemort ordered, eyes glowing an even greater red. "Find the one known as Harry Potter. Slay him without mercy."

The unholy shrieks of the hellblazers rose above the cacophony of battle, chilling the Death Eaters right down the bone. Voldemort's minions stood trembling, some retching in fear as the daemons prowled through their midst, some convulsing and gibbering insanely, driven mad by the foul essence of Chaos.

Voldemort stood triumphant in the clearing, until the weakness struck, overwhelming the greatest dark wizard in the world. He gritted his teeth in agony, watching as the black blood spontaneously spurted from a dozen wounds. _This flesh is weak. And that was just a small portal! How many more demands must I make of this fragile body before my reward is given to me? My magic is as strong as ever, maybe even more powerful, but it is not enough!_ "Asmodeus."

"Yes, my Lord?" The First Death Eater was at his side, as always, seemingly unperturbed by the daemon summoning. "Your orders."

"Send forth the entire raiding party, and kill Potter. But before you do, kill the others right before his eyes. Slaughter his friends and allies like sheep; sacrifice their souls to the God of War. Bind the Champion of Ravenclaw and ravage her until she begs for death, allow Isolde to drain her weak lifeblood and gain her revenge. Raze their forest to the ground. Take their women and children for our pleasure, torture and mutilate their warriors, display the heads of the Aurors as trophies, and annihilate the Shadow Hunter! I want Potter's corpse crucified onto my standard, and the skins of Albus Dumbledore's pet soldiers tacked to my throne! Fail me, Asmodeus, and yourhide will take their place."

Asmodeus smiled wickedly, drawing his knives. "Perfectly, my Lord. Potter will die before the new sun rises."

* * *

The Death Eater gurgled as Cho's arrow punched through his windpipe, the black-robed killer falling to the ground. Beside the beautiful Ravenclaw, Harry hacked and slashed with Runefang, another Death Eater collapsing, slicing in twain. The initial impetus of the Order charge had faded, but the results were devastating for Voldemort's forces. The Order now held the initiative, and had hurled the enemy away from the initial ambush site, the fighting spreading throughout the Forest. Harry and Cho were a devastating pair, using the weapons and energies of the Founders to lethal effect, scattering all opposition aside like leaves in an autumn gale.

Stormfury held off three Death Eaters simultaneously, his incredible fighting skills deflecting and parrying the Death Eater attacks with almost languished ease. A single monstrous slash cut two of them down to size. The third ran, getting six steps before Stormfury flung his sword into the man's back. "Run them down! Run the bastards down!" The unearthly words of power emerged from his tongue, a half-dozen fireballs turning Death Eaters into walking torches.

After several minutes of hard fighting, Harry and Cho came upon a new sight. Sitting in a nearby clearing was an ancient stone tower, circular walls covered with dead ivy, the stones worn with age. A small knot of Death Eaters had congregated near the entrance, swearing oaths as they sought to kill whomever hid within. One of the more attentive foes tugged the sleeves of an officer, pointing towards the incoming Champions.

The entire unit of Death Eaters barely got a chance to scream as the energies of the Founders blazed through them, red and blue fire burning two-thirds their number to ash. The remaining few threw down their wands and fled, only to encounter a squad of Aurors, led by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Enraged beyond reason, the Aurors cursed the Death Eaters where they stood, one gleeful wizard using a Bone-Crushing Hex on each fallen enemy in a final coup de grace.

"Over here," a voice croaked. Without a second thought, Harry rushed up towards the tower, Cho close behind.

Atop a pile of broken stones lay Blaise, her battle robes scuffed and battered by enemy attacks. The Adder's Bite lay at her side, the mystery satchel close by, while the bodies of eight Death Eaters created a shattered perimeter around her. The willowy Slytherin gave a slight cough, smiling at her two allies. "Did I miss anything?"

Cho knelt down beside her, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Blaise reached down at her side, tracing a rip in the armour. Blood formed on her fingertips. "It looks nasty, but I'll live. My ears are still ringing from the explosion though." She paused, swallowing to lubricate her throat. "The Death Eaters caught my group, about two dozen of them, including these bad-ass ninja types. Got acid-spraying knives, nasty stuff. Fortunately, they didn't hit me, but some arsehole managed to stick a conventional dagger in a gap where my armour doesn't cover."

Harry offered a hand, and Blaise took it, seizing the Adder's Bite. "I took down plenty of the bastards though, with this puppy." She took a moment to admire the workmanship on the axehead. "Solid construction. Salazar must have known what he was doing."

Raising her wand, Cho muttered an incantation. Tissue regenerated, and Blaise's wound disappeared with nary a scar. "That should help," Cho declared, pocketing the maple instrument. "Now, we should get going. Ron and Hermione are still out there, after all."

"Good idea," Harry replied, giving the woodland a quick one-over. "There must be a dozen clearings in this section of the Forest alone. With these Death Eaters roaming around, it'll be tough finding them, not to mention bringing them back safely."

Cho thought for a moment, considering the options. "I don't know any spells that would make the job easier, and I don't think that any of the Order are Animagi, except for Professor McGonagall. A cat is not going to help us out here. Our only hope of finding Ron and Hermione is to rally our forces, clear out the Death Eaters, and begin a proper search. Maybe, if we're lucky, they'll lead us to them."

"Just one problem," Blaise interrupted. "If Voldemort feels that he's being defeated, then he will kill them. Even in defeat, he'd deny us our goal, and come back again later, maybe with even more Death Eaters."

"Then we have to move quickly," Harry said, eyes burning with hatred. "We tell the Order what we're doing, and then we head out on our own. It's the only way. Agreed?"

Cho and Blaise nodded in affirmation. Exiting the shelter of the tower, the Champions made their way over to Kingsley, organizing his squad for another sortie. The veteran Auror gave them a look of concern, sheathing his wand. "What are you kids up to now?"

"We're heading out to find Ron and Hermione," Harry responded, voice filled with conviction. "We're just slowing the Order down by forcing you to watch over us. You keep fighting the Death Eaters, we'll find the captives, save time that way."

Kingsley shook his head. "Sorry, kids, I can't allow that to happen. Dumbledore gave us strict orders to watch over you, and-"

A streak of grey flashed before Harry's sight, bowling the Champion over. Cho screamed in shock, and he heard Blaise swear, the sound of her voice mingling with Kingsley's desperate screams. Jumping back to his feet, the young Gryffindor witnessed the monstrous werewolf detach itself from Kingsley's body, stalking menacingly towards the others.

Blaise screamed, bringing down the Adder's Bite, the rune-encrusted axe burying into the creature's haunches. It shrieked, a hideous cry, and flopped over. She had no time to celebrate, as more of the creatures lunged from the brush, taking down their prey with yellowed fangs and wicked claws.

One of the werewolves, a brown-furred and gnarled beast, bound towards Harry, slavering in anticipation. Rather than block the unstoppable charge, Harry side-stepped, driving the point of his sword into the monster as it barrelled past, thick red blood bursting from the wound. The werewolf shuddered, collapsing, its life draining away, before finally going still.

Harry grimaced, as he caught a glimpse of the creature. It had been human, a living, breathing being, infected with a nightmarish curse. It could have been a man just like Lupin, with dreams and hopes and desires, forced to become a killer. He stopped himself, paying attention to his surroundings. The werewolf had been working for Voldemort, and that was justification enough for killing it. Harry gritted his teeth as he sliced off another werewolf's head, its death spasms throwing up snow and earth.

Cho fired her bow, the arrow piercing the shoulder of a charging werewolf. Still it came on, howling in rage. A quick transfiguration, and Stormcrow became a spear, taking the beast right through the middle, the spearhead emerging from its back, drenched in gore. Ripping the demi-pike free, Cho slashed out the throat of yet another hostile in one smooth motion, eyes filled with equal parts fear and rage. "What are you doing?" she yelled at Blaise, the Champion of Slytherin reaching into her satchel and withdrawing a black metallic sphere. "Is that what I think it is?"

A quick wave of her wand, and the reed fuse extending from the cast-iron shell began to smoke and sputter. "Cover your virgin ears, Chang," Blaise snapped, drawing back her arm. "Fire in the hole!"

Blaise lobbed the device with all her might, the black orb sailing through the air, exploding seconds later in the midst of a werewolf brood. The concussive force sent globules of molten silver and iron flying into the lycanthropes, setting their fur aflame, the silver poisoning them almost instantly. A half-dozen of the werewolves fell, and their attack stalled, Blaise's handmade bombs buying the Order valuable seconds to rally. Cho turned to the blond girl, remarking, "How did you make those?"

"Never doubt the ingenuity of a Slytherin," Blaise replied with a bloodthirsty smile. "I have plenty more."

* * *

As Cho and Blaise began a lethal barrage of arrows and explosives, a new melody joined the clang of metal and the thunder of bombs. Harry's heart warmed to hear it, the bird's blood-red feathers shining brilliantly. "Fawkes," he whispered, the battle momentarily forgotten at the sight of Dumbledore's phoenix companion.

Fawkes trilled in response, and Harry felt his weariness fade away, the phoenix song rejuvenating his fatigued muscles. The young Champion's allies felt the same effect, fighting with renewed vigour, the tide of bestial rage beginning to slacken. Harry extended an arm, allowing the phoenix to perch upon it, small talons digging into the dragonhide. It stared at Harry with intense blue eyes, before taking flight once more, winging off deeper into the Forest.

"I know where Ron and Hermione are!" Harry shouted, giving Runefang a few practice strokes. He then offered a real one, cleaving a Death Eater in twain, unmindful of the blood spattering his glasses. "Fawkes will show me the way!"

Cho grunted, picking off a werewolf with a quick shot. "Go ahead! We'll hold them off, and catch up with you later!" Ditching Stormcrow for a moment, her katana became unsheathed, cutting the legs out from underneath a Death Eater. As the man fell to his knees, Cho slashed at chest level, slicing off his head with a professional stroke. "Go!"

Part of Harry's mind lingered on Cho, fighting like a warrior born. But he knew where his duty lay. Whispering a quick prayer for forgiveness, Harry bolted through the trees, following the beacon of Fawkes, eager to finish it.

* * *

Stormfury cursed every god he knew, wrenching a crossbow bolt from his shin, allowing himself a quick cry of pain as the barbed arrowhead tugged at the muscle. Staggering to his feet, he proceeded to burnfive Death Eaters to ash, his powers still as formidable as ever. He was beginning to tire, however, the exertions of the evening starting to wear him down. Bisecting a Death Eater, he tried to rally the exhausted Order. "We are not yet finished! Our honour and the lives of children are at stake! Hold fast!"

The ranks of the Death Eaters seemed to be without end, their numbers constantly reinforced by new arrivals from whatever dark hole Voldemort had taken refuge in. The Dark Lord must have scoured the globe to amass such numbers, and no doubt the bulk of his forces were kept in reserve at his headquarters. Stormfury whispered a brief prayer to Gaea, hoping that the Order would hold on for a while longer.

Beside him, Tonks leaned out of cover, casting a Death Eater twelve feet with a Dispersal Hex. Fleur joined her, the two women cursing any enemy that dared to stick his head out. Hagrid added some additional muscle to the group, the half-giant currently holed up behind a low hillock on Stormfury's orders. His mighty bulk was too tempting a target for any sniper, and the Shadow Hunter wanted to keep him in reserve,in the event of an enemy charge.

Twenty Order volunteers were gathered on one side of a snow-covered valley, the sides irregular and jagged. A little over a stone's throw away, three score Death Eaters lurked in similar circumstances, eying the Order's position hungrily. From the frequency of animal howls coming from amongst Voldemort's forces, Stormfury could only surmise that some werewolves were present as well. How they controlled the beasts from attacking each other, or the Dark Lord's human minions, he wasn't sure. For the time being, both sides were at a stalemate, sheltered behind the terrain, but the Death Eaters could break it, and potentially win. He could hear their taunts and mutterings from across the stretch, and knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Lying on his back, he whispered to Tonks, "Get the men ready for a charge. I'll try and blunt the initial assault, you and the rest of the Order try to pick off the remainder."

The Metamorphangus looked at Stormfury strangely. "Will you be able to do that, however? You've borne more than your share of the fighting, and you're wearing yourself out much greater than the rest of us."

"It has to be done. All other options have failed. These Death Eaters are here for a reason. It was all a trap, a lure, to draw the Order out of hiding. And Harry too."

"Do ya think e'll be alright?" Hagrid asked, cranking a quarrel into place, the wooden frame of the crossbow creaking in his grip.

Stormfury thought for an instant, before replying, "Harry is incredibly lucky, Hagrid. Fate has greater plans for him, and I can only hope that dying in a blood-soaked forest is not it."

Tonks peered up the lip of the ridge, surveying the Death Eater position. "Looks like they're casting some kind of concealment spell."

"What?" Stormfury snapped his head up to meet her. "What kind of concealment spell?"

"A mist, come to think of it. A Sea-Fog Charm, maybe."

Cries of shock and dismay rose up from the Death Eater lines. Tonks grinned. "Or maybe not."

* * *

"What are you so afraid of?" Bellatrix screamed, laying her hands about the Death Eaters, cowering in fear, the sudden descent of the mist reducing them to frightened wretches. Some tried to dispel the fog, but without success, heightening the terror. "It's just some stupid fog!"

A fierce war-cry assailed the sole remaining ear of Bellatrix, causing her to jump in fright. The shout was answered by others, coming from all around the Death Eaters. Voldemort's minions leapt to their feet, knees shaking, peering into the mist that seemed to drown them utterly. More battle screams echoed throughout the Forest, testing the Death Eater's nerves. The mist grew thicker, swirling around their legs, and soon the Death Eaters lost track of each other, lost and confused in a world of clouds.

New sounds broke the eerie silence, a chanting, repetitive phrase, spoken in some alien tongue none of the Death Eaters could understand. Bellatrix screamed in horror, recognizing the similar melody from Diagon Alley. "Scatter! Run for your li-"

A nova of frost exploded amongst the Death Eaters, blade-like fragments of ice slicing men to bloody ribbons. Black-robed figures clutched their faces, screaming in agony, frostbite seeping down to their bones. Bellatrix screamed the cry of an old woman. "The daemons are upon us! The Shadow Hunters! Flee! Flee!" Fireballs soared from between the trees, the Death Eaters pounded with flaming missiles, turned to walking pyres. The thirty survivors of this elemental barrage needed no second reminder, running like their lives depended on it, blind panic overtaking them as they fled through the mist.

One of the Death Eaters turned to look behind him. The sharp gleam of a sword ended his misgivings with one quick thrust.

* * *

"Frosthowler! Frosthowler is here! Charge! Swift reckoning to the Death Eater infidels! DEATH!" Stormfury screamed like a man possessed, throwing himself towards the mist, foaming at the mouth. The rest of the Order, caught up in the same euphoria, charged with him. Almost immediately, the mist parted, and Stormfury witnessed the fury of angels.

Shadow Hunters, over a dozen, butchered their opponents with the grace of dancers, every slash, block or dodge with liquid fluidity. The Death Eaters died in droves, slaughtered like children before the might of the Gaea's holy warriors. Even the werewolves scattered, brutality and bestial cunning no match against swordsmanship and magic. Not one of Voldemort's minions could have stood against a single of these mages in single combat, men and women both dressed in the battle robes of the Shadow Hunters, tearing their foes apart in a storm of mana and steel.

And in the centre of the copse stood a noble figure, garbed in purple Shadow Hunter robes. A single wave of his hand froze ten Death Eaters solid. A touch of his staff on earth opened a great chasm, the screams of dying Dark wizards ringing into the abyss. "Gaea has spoken, heretics," the man said, throwing his hood back to reveal a bald palate. "Your crimes are unforgivable, and deserve only death. The Earthmother despises the sight of you. Your bodies will feed the engine of creation; the worms will feast on your corpses. Your souls will be sent screaming into the Great Abyss, and you will tell them that _I sent you there_!"

Beside him, Avalon concentrated, snapping a Death Eater's neck with a thought, her eyes burning bright with warpstone dust. The Spirit Walker looked invigorated, shrouded in a white robe, body super-charged with warpstone. Her gaze met Stormfury's for the briefest of moments, before she threw another foe against a large rock, his brains spilling out.

"For Gaea and the Champions! Death is on the wind!" Stormfury cried, the Order slamming the Death Eaters with frantic determination. Amid the destruction, Stormfury and Frosthowler saluted each other, before leading their forces forth towards blood and glory.

* * *

Harry had barely stopped running in the ten minutes since he had seen Fawkes. The phoenix took him on a direct route, forcing Harry to negotiate the rough terrain. Runefang felt light as a feather on his back, the enchanted weapon not impeding him in the slightest.

Fawkes shrilled, and Harry caught a glimpse of red hair through the brush. Bird and boy leapt towards the augury, and Harry gasped, seeing the predicament occupying his best friends.

Ron and Hermione had been sent up in some horrid test of wills, with Hermione standing directly on Ron's broad shoulders, a thick noose looped around her neck. Ron was left unencumbered, but if he moved or stepped out of position, Hermione would fall, her descent stopped fatally by the noose. "Ron! Hermione!" Harry shouted, noticing that the boy's face was almost as red as his hair. "Hold on, I'll get you down in a moment."

"Harry!" Ron bellowed, grunting in pain. "Hurry, mate! Hermione hasn't been speaking in a while, the lack of air might have gotten to her."

Drawing Runefang, Harry cut through the solid coil of rope like homemade yarn, causing Hermione to tumble off Ron's shoulders. Harry barely managed to catch the girl, setting her down on the snow, slicing open the noose. He lifted up her head, allowing air to flow into her lungs. "Come on, Hermione, breathe. Nice and slow."

Hermione choked and coughed, her first few breaths painful after the rope around her neck for so long. After a few moments, her breathing became easier, and she looked into Harry's green eyes, voice cracking. "Harry," she croaked, tears coming to her eyes, "You shouldn't have come here. It could have been a trap, it could have been like the Department of Mysteries…"

Stifling a few tears himself, Harry moved to embrace her. "I couldn't leave my friends out here to die," he responded, giving her a reassuring squeeze. He turned to Ron, the lanky Gryffindor massaging his aching shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Ron grumbled, stretching his weary muscles. "You-Know-Who thought it would be fun to string Hermione from the tallest tree, with only me for support. We heard a bloody ruckus start up the past half-hour, which I guess was you and the Order." He paused for a moment, staring at Runefang. "Bloody hell, mate. It's the sword. How did you get your hands on that?"

Hermione paled in fright, noticing Harry's bloodstained battle robes. "Oh my God, Harry, what happened to you?"

"I'll tell you guys later. Right now, we-"

Harry screamed as barbed claws buried into his side, ripping through dragonhide and muscle, cutting off his reply. Hermione let out a terrified yell, and Harry sunk to the ground, feeling blood well up from the wound. In the distance, he heard Ron bellow at them to stay back, then hissight came back into focus.

The hellblazer stood its full seven feet, looming over Harry like some malevolent god, skeletal face twisted into a perverse sneer. The daemon laughed, and waved a clawed finger, as if chastising him for crying out. All around them, more hellblazers slunk out of the shadow, hissing and growling, surrounding the three humans like hungry wolves. The lead monster cackled, soulless black eyes staring at the Champion. Harry shivered under its gaze, all his courage seeming to drain away before the presence of this hell-borne foe.

Warpfire gathered in its hands, and it struck.


	18. Furious Angels

**Chapter 18: Furious Angels**

The bowstring hissed, and another werewolf fell, pierced by Cho's lethal archery. Notching another shaft, she drew back, keeping her breathing nice and slow. A deep breath and she released, the blue-fletched arrow taking a Death Eater right between the eyes. The Champion of Ravenclaw worked with a perfect efficiency of motion, a living machine bringing death with every action. From her vantage point atop the tower, Cho was unstoppable, protected from assault at ground level by the vengeful Blaise and a squad of Order volunteers, whilst she dealt damage from afar.

More explosions sounded, rattling Cho's teeth inside her skull. She gave a silent cheer for Blaise and those Muggle incendiaries of hers. Born in a traditional pureblood family, she was damned if she knew how the willowy Slytherin had concocted such devices, but they were effective nonetheless, and Cho had to give her some credit for her ingenuity. As primitive and barbaric as many wizards considered them, Muggles were especially adept at killing. Unfortunately, it seemed that the energies of Slytherin had yet to spark, the ancient magic still dormant inside her. Regardless, the willowy Slytherin was holding her own, her weapons skills rendering extra firepower to the Order unit.

Turning her attention inward, Cho shouldered Stormcrow, concentrating on the power that screamed through her veins. As if fuelled by the blood and death, the energies of Ravenclaw built up inside, feeding on her exhilaration, her hatred for the Death Eaters. Blue flames engulfed her hands, lashing out at the milling Death Eaters and werewolves. Men and monsters screamed in agony as they were consumed, light-borne magic annihilating them. Cho laughed, caught up in the rush of power, unleashing another powerful blast. More fell, burned to cinders, and many of Voldemort's minions chose to turn tail and run, terrified by the presence of the Champion of Ravenclaw.

A powerful blow landed on Cho's back, sending her sprawling, Stormcrow falling out of reach. Another punishing strike, this time to her stomach, knocking the wind from out of her. Her concentration broken, the energies of Ravenclaw scattered and faded, something Cho's attacker took full advantage of. Cho gasped in pain as the mysterious figure reached out of the shadow, a manicured hand seizing her by the throat. Laughing evilly, the attacker lifted the Chinese girl up off her feet, cutting off her air. She began to panic, clawing at the hand latched about her windpipe like a band of iron.

Stepping from the darkness, Isolde von Albrecht chuckled with glee. "At last, the blood of Ravenclaw has been found!" she cackled, answered by the feral shrieks and laughter of her vampire cronies, landing all around their dark mistress, fangs bared in twisted smiles. "The defiler of my sacred domain, murderer of my family! This is the child of Ravenclaw, the progeny of the one who damned us to Ministry oppression! The whore who befouled the Kingdom of the Night, and left our people at the mercy of wizards and vampire hunters! Witness the abomination that is the seed of Ravenclaw, taken form in this girl."

Cho choked, the lack of air making her woozy. She tried to concentrate and bring forth the energies of Ravenclaw once more, but could not, starved for oxygen. Frantically, she beat at the steely hand gripping her, her struggles not affecting the vampire in the slightest.

"For generations after the fall of my kingdom, I searched for Ravenclaw's offspring, trying to locate and destroy them, to gain my revenge. But I could not, and for ten centuries I laboured for vengeance," Isolde went on, her beautiful features marred by her insane and angry expression. "It was a goal I could not reach, even with the blood of a hundred victims! And now I see why. The greatest of my enemies _ran_, to mate with Chinamen like a dockyard whore." Vampires laughed and giggled at this statement.

Weakness fell on Cho's limbs, and in a last ditch effort at survival, she groped around for a weapon, anything to use against her assailant. Her hands brushed up against the discarded quiver, and hope gave her new strength.

"And now, it's time for you to die," said Isolde, voice filled with relish. Placing her other hand around Cho's throat, she began to squeeze.

With a final burst of strength, Cho snatched a fallen arrow, driving the barbed oak shaft into Isolde's thigh. The vampire let out a shriek of agony, releasing the Champion and staggering back, screaming bloody murder. Gasping for breath and rubbing her throat, Cho tried to get to her feet, still weak from the lack of oxygen. Taking in great, heaving breaths, she drew her katana, rising to meet the vampire on shaky legs.

Isolde snarled, glaring the Champion with even greater hatred. Charged with the energies of Ravenclaw, the arrow had caused her undead flesh to degenerate, her leg wasting away, the stench of death rising from the wound. "You…_bitch!_" the vampire screamed, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Wraith-like figures encircled Cho with additional menace. "You'll pay for that!"

One of the vampires leapt towards Cho, hands outstretched. The Champion of Ravenclaw stepped back, then slashed with the katana, tearing through the creature's upper chest, rending muscle and bone. It screamed, exploding into dust, its bones shattering into a thousand fragments before they crumbled into ash. Ducking to avoid another blow, Cho parried with her sword, reversing her grip and driving it into the vampire's heart. It too dusted, powdered bone gathering on her eyelashes. Screaming in Mandarin, she leapt up, cleaving yet another vampire in two, the dual halves falling away before turning to ash.

"Kill her! _Kill her!_" Isolde screamed, sending her minions forward. "She's just a girl! Kill her!"

Rather than merely defend herself against the vampire assault, Cho took the initiative and charged, her boots muffled by the snow, fiery resolve in her eyes. Blue fire circled in a halo around her, and the Dark creatures stumbled and faltered, shrieking in terror, trying to hide from the light.

Cho swept into the vampire ranks like an avenging angel, bright steel slashing faster than the eye could see. Vampire after vampire died at her hands, great mounds of dust carried on the breeze. Claws and talons scratched away, drawing blood, but she disregarded the relatively minor wounds, fighting on. Cho focused, sapphire flames erupting all around her in a devastating wave, consuming a dozen foes. The Champion of Ravenclaw raised a hand, directing the magic against a knot of the beasts to her right. Four vampires burst into flames, winking out of existence, sending further panic along the line. Blocking several quick jabs from some of the more tenacious examples, she spun in mid-air, extending her blade at head height. Two more of the bloodsuckers fell, a third gaping at the slaughter of his fellows. Cho served him up a brutal roundhouse kick, the nocturnal fiend's head snapping back.

Despite the causalities she was inflicting upon the vampire horde, she was losing. One of the assailing brood, a Nosferatu-like figure, plunged his dagger into her leg, hissing with glee. Cho screamed in pain, treating the attacker to a mystic blast to the face. Another vampire, his face scarred with the record of innumerable battles, struck the girl across the face, seizing her neck in preparation for a quick bite. The Champion reversed the grip on her katana, driving it behind her and through the vampire's ribs, kicking the disintegrating corpse away. Wrenching the knife from her leg, Cho sprang over to the fallen Stormcrow, clasping the spear in a tight grip. "Come on then, you bloodsucking freaks!" she shouted, her mind working in overdrive to discover a way out of this. "Come on! You could act tough when you faced a helpless girl, how about a real foe?" Cho's left hand went to her wand, while her chocolate-brown eyes glanced at the imposing drop to the forest floor. "If you're so eager to kill me, then try!"

Howling, the vampires charged, many running on all fours to bring themselves closer to the Champion. Ten metres. Cho flexed her wand, going through the incantation one last time in her mind, Stormcrow held in front of her. _One spell, Cho, a wand-cast spell. You know the one._

Five yards. Cho could see their fangs now, many stained with the blood of Aurors and Order volunteers. No doubt they had feasted on a few stragglers before assaulting the tower, and Cho swallowed, fighting back her disgust, vowing to make the creatures pay. _Wait for the right moment._

Two yards. The first vampire opened his jaw wide, propelling himself for Cho's throat. _Now_. Cho raised her wand, the maple rod tracing a line through the air as she screamed, "_Lumos Icarius Solaris!_"

Light erupted outwards from Cho's wand, the Advanced Illumination Charm bursting with the intensity of a miniature sun, radiating outwards into the vampire brood. The lead rank of creatures wailed and exploded into dust, the ultraviolet radiation emitted by the charm acting like sunlight, burning the vampires down. The rear elements slammed into the front, and anarchy erupted, all discipline lost. Many of the vampires took flight, Isolde's screams pursing them as they fled. The vampire leader shrieked in rage, plunging a clawed hand through the chest of a minion, ripping out the limb in a shower of blood and bone. "Ravenclaw! _Stand and fight!_"

Cho leapt, her lithe frame hurtling itself off the edge of the tower, the wind rushing past her face as she fell, the thirty-foot gap between ancient stone and fresh snow closing fast. "_Spongify!_" she shouted, as calm and refined as a Charms exam. The ground below her became soft like feather down, cushioning the girl's landing with barely a bump. Pausing to impale a raging werewolf upon her spear, Cho made for Blaise and the Order squad, the strain of the constant fighting wearing her down.

The whistle of wind alerted her, and Cho sprang to the side, barely dodging Isolde's outstretched claws. "Damn you, Ravenclaw, I'll see an end to you, here and now," the vampire spat, eyes dyed red with the blood-thirst. "My Kingdom of the Night will not be denied."

Cho faced Isolde with fire in her eyes, tired limbs gaining new, desperate strength. "I have no idea who you are, but you are really starting to annoy me. I don't want to fight you, so don't force me."

Isolde cackled. "Then this should be easy, shouldn't it?"

With a brutal scream, Cho and Isolde lunged at one another, striking with lethal intent. The vampire slashed the air with her claws, trying to score a blow upon the agile Ravenclaw. Cho dodged these assaults, using the superior length of Stormcrow to keep Isolde at bay, jabbing and thrusting with the long spear. Isolde shrieked an incantation, and her claws began dripping black fluid, staining the already blood-soaked snow. "The Claws of Hebenon!" she declared, smiling evilly. "A single caress, girl, will be your undoing."

Blue fire sparked on Cho's palms, and Isolde barely managed to leap away, sapphire bolts screaming past her, scorching the edges of her cloak. The Champion of Ravenclaw gave the same wicked grin, spinning Stormcrow like a quarterstaff. She passed the spear through the snow, tracing a line, daring the vampire to fight her. "Ditto."

Isolde's eyes widened as Cho charged, wielding her spear like a drum major's staff, the spearblade singing as it cut through the air. The vampire hissed, dodging and evading the lethal strikes. Cho kept at it, going into a spinning leap, slashing like a whirlwind. Isolde backed off, retaliating with her poison claws, flecks of toxin scattering upon the snow. The intensity of the battle was such that several of the Order paused to watch the two combatants duel, forgetting the battle that raged around them.

Cho was becoming exhausted now; the toil of successive combats becoming apparent now. Her arms felt weak, like they were being held down by lead weights. After the events of Hogsmeade, the sparking of the energies of Ravenclaw, and the running battles fought throughout the Forbidden Forest, she had very little left to give. Directing a blast of sapphire flame at her vampire opponent, Cho shook her head to clear her vision, weakened by the exertion required to summon the ancient magic.

Von Albrecht, on the other hand, was still full of energy, her immortal body granting her additional speed and strength. While Cho was worn out by the constant fighting, Isolde had only joined the fight recently, mainly allowing her minions to carry the bulk of the assault. The vampire lady snarled in anticipation, taking her time, looking for the right moment to strike.

It came almost without warning. Cho stumbled, tripping on a half-buried stone, falling on her back. Isolde screamed, launching forward like a torpedo, claws extended. Like a flash, Cho brought Stormcrow horizontal across her chest, the vampire's hands clasping around the spear haft. Isolde screamed in agony as the energies of Ravenclaw came in contact with her undead flesh, the mystic powers emanating from the weapon burning away her hands. She staggered back, shrieking in pain. Cho concentrated, ignoring the fatigue, and blue fire sprang forth, lancing at the vampire. Once again, Isolde barely dodged, wheeling around and coming in for the kill.

Cho held her ground, keeping her spear low. At the last possible moment, she brought the weapon up, right into Isolde's flight path. The vampire gave a scream of pain as she twisted away, Stormcrow gouging a deep path through black leather and dead muscle. Her agonized screams could be heard for miles, and she dropped to the forest floor, her side slowly dissolving in a blue glow. "Damn you, _Ravenclaw!_"

"I don't want to fight you anymore," Cho said, pointing Stormcrow at her heart. "Surrender, and I promise that you will not be harmed."

"You don't wish to fight, girl?" Isolde demanded, waving her followers forward. "Well, we _do._"

Like a thunderbolt, the huge warhammer catapulted from out of the trees, the monstrous steel weight smashing through three vampires in sequence, blowing them to dust. A mighty roar reverberated around the clearing, matched only by earth-shaking steps as a new figure barrelled into the clearing. Cho's jaw dropped, seeing the creature. It was _huge_, several feet tall than even Hagrid, its bull-snouted head topped with a pair of menacing horns. Its shaggy brown fur was braided in places, and ritual tattoos decorated its chest, arms and fists.

Uttering a raging war-cry, the minotaur snatched up the hammer, proceeding to bash another vampire's skull in. "Is this a private slaughter, or can anyone join?" it inquired, its deep voice like rolling thunder. Not waiting for a response, it stormed into the fray, swinging the huge weapon with incredible dexterity, ploughing through Voldemort's troops with ease. Vampires were crushed beneath its giant hooves. Werewolves were gored upon its horns. Death Eaters were ground to paste by its furious hammer.

Emboldened by the appearance of the minotaur, Cho and Blaise counterattacked, the Order and Auror volunteers following them. Arrows and hexes slammed into the Death Eaters, sending them fleeing.

White light burst forth, and vampires evaporated, screaming. Shielding her eyes from the glare, Cho saw another figure approach from the woods, her steps light and disciplined. Her skin was pale, red hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore a fine dress of pure white, and she seemed to resonate an aura of benevolence and power. What really caught Cho's attention were her pointed ears, adding to the woman's overall mysterious nature. She gave a brief smile, before chanting in an arcane tongue, the language like soft music by a master composer. A line of force billowed out, slamming into Voldemort's minions, throwing them away. The elf spoke, directing to the rampaging minotaur, "Bloodstone, do not slay them unnecessarily. They are broken. Do not pursue them further."

The minotaur snorted disdainfully. "They're broken once they're dead, Evelas. Besides, this is too much fun!" Encasing a Death Eater's skull in a vice-like grip, Bloodstone proceeded to smash it against a tree, brain matter splattering over the grey bark. A swipe of its warhammer, and a werewolf's head flew into the distance, sailing fifty yards before rolling down a rabbit hole. Grinding a vampire beneath its hooves, it bellowed an incantation, elemental fire building in the palms of its meaty hands, blowing a hole straight through the Death Eater ranks.

_They're Elementalists!_ Cho realized, deflecting an incoming blow, riposting with Stormcrow. The Ravenclaw beauty found herself in a fighting duet with Blaise, the two Champions killing anything that came in range. The Adder's Bite cleaving Death Eaters and werewolves in two, while the arrows of Stormcrow caused causalities from afar. The high elf, Evelas, conjured a great phoenix, alight with silver flames that burned with greater intensity the more the Death Eaters tried to dispel them. Bloodstone was a tank, butchering any unfortunate bastard that got in his way.

War cries sounded the arrival of the allied Shadow Hunter and Order warbands, following fleeing Death Eaters towards Cho's position. That tore it for the survivors. Scared out of their wits and torn to shreds by the forces of the Light, they panicked and broke. Many of the remaining Death Eaters tried to Apparate, a few managing to escape before Tonks and her Aurors cast Anti-Apparation Charms, trapping the stragglers. Isolde took off, screaming, her minions dying in droves to cover her retreat. Even the werewolves ran off, stubby tails between their legs, cowed in defeat. After what seemed like an eternity of bloodshed and mayhem, the Death Eaters were driven from the Forbidden Forest. Light had prevailed.

* * *

Cho sank to the ground, completely drained. Her body felt like one big bruise, although the battle-robes had definitely taken the brunt of the enemy assault, allowing her to fight on against impossible odds. Including that vampire…Cho shook her head, trying to stay awake. The vampires attacked her with vengeful fury, and if their leader's speech was correct, than Ravenclaw had garnered her share of enemies in ages past. Yet another burden borne by the Champions. She felt tears gather in her eyes, and cursed under her breath, wiping the shining liquid away. Blood smeared all over her cheeks.

Blaise came and sat down beside her, eyes bright with the exhilaration of battle. While Cho and Harry had shown repulsion after killing, furious with disbelief and ashamed of their actions, the blue-eyed Slytherin showed no such empathy. Discarding the empty satchel, now vacant of her improvised explosives, Blaise knelt down beside Cho, inquiring, "What's wrong, blue? We did it! We kicked Voldie's stooges back to the Stone Age! Come on, cheer up now!"

The Ravenclaw beauty looked at Blaise, stricken with fear. "We didn't find the hostages though, and they were the real reason for coming out here. And I haven't seen Harry since we separated."

"Oh, of course," Blaise replied, pulling Cho into a comforting hug. "Well, let's go find him then. I'll help you, and I'm sure the Order would be more than willing to assist." She gestured to the assembled masses of warriors to emphasize.

Cho smiled briefly, taking solace in her words. A large part of her still didn't trust Blaise. She was a Slytherin, and old prejudices ran deep amongst the Houses. More importantly, Cho distrusted her motivations. Harry and Cho fought the Death Eaters for noble causes, and certainly didn't enjoy it, despite the necessity. Blaise, on the other hand, was a schemer, ruthless and calculating. She fought with no small amount of enjoyment, not brought about by the energies of the Founders. Still, Cho was reassured by her gestures of kindness, putting her suspicions behind her, for the moment.

There came a shuffling in the ranks, and Stormfury came forward, the Shadow Hunter literally drenched in blood from head to toe. How much for it was his own, Cho couldn't tell, but was relived to see the DADA teacher smiling. "Ms. Chang, Ms. Zabini. Glad to see you survived the battle with little harm." He turned to the three newcomers, introducing each in turn. "This is the Lady Evelas, high elven mage and representative of her people on the Council. Next, Cairne Bloodstone, chieftain of the minotaur tribes and Grand Minotaur Embermage. Finally, the lord Magnus Frosthowler, Asgard of the Shadow Hunters, greatest of Gaea's warriors. Lord Frosthowler, Lady Evelas, Lord Bloodstone, may I present the Champions of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, Ms. Cho Chang, and Ms. Blaise Zabini."

Frosthowler, the Shadow Hunter, bowed low before the two Champions, piercing silver eyes radiating pure power. "It is an honour to meet you, Champions," he said with a calm demeanour. "Lesser men would have fallen a dozen times against such odds. I am glad to see that Stormfury has taught you well."

Bloodstone spat upon the snow, the minotaur's eyes flecked with red. "You could have saved some for us," he grumbled, giving his hammer a few practice swipes. "Not a very good fight, for me, anyway."

Cho looked around at the fallen, seeing Auror and Death Eater locked in deadly embrace. The blood soaked the snow, a crust of crimson ice forming over the packed frost, while bodies lay strewn all around, human or otherwise. How many died here tonight? A hundred? More? How many Aurors and Order volunteers gave their lives to free the captives, still missing as of yet? "No, it wasn't a good fight," she whispered, tears willing up.

The high elf, Evelas, knelt before the Champion, caressing her cheek with a cold hand, calming her down. "You fought with honour, Champions. You fought because the Darkness gave you no choice. The powers of evil do not care for moral judgements or the suffering of others. They only wish to destroy, and you helped prevent that. You need not feel guilt for what you have done."

"But I do," Cho replied, securing Stormcrow on her back.

Evelas smiled. "And that shows that you are worthy of such a mantle, the destiny to which you have been given."

"We came here to speak to Albus Dumbledore," Frosthowler explained. "The Council of Gaea has become increasing concerned with the course of the war, and the effectiveness of the Ministry in combating Voldemort."

"The Ministry hasn't been fighting, truth be told," Cho answered, facing the Shadow Hunter general with head held high. "Even as Voldemort's forces struck across the country, Fudge held the Aurors back and prevented them from fighting. Why, I'm not sure."

Bloodstone growled, the wooden hilt of his warhammer creaking under the strain of his grip. "I shall have a talk with this one. Warriors and soldiers should not hide like frightened whelps when battle comes!"

"Agreed," Frosthowler added, running a hand across his bald scalp. "Before coming here to the Forbidden Forest, we managed to bypass the wards surrounding the Ministry of Magic, and infiltrate the complex. I intended to confront the Minister of Magic and force him to explain his actions, but certain events required a change of planning." Frosthowler gestured to his right, where Avalon laid, her body deathly still, three Shadow Hunters watching over her.

"What happened to her?" Cho asked, shocked by the woman's ghostly pale appearance. She remembered Harry mentioning something about an Occlumacy tutor with similar features. "Is she alright?"

"The Lady Avalon will be fine. She suffered a traumatic…experience in the Ministry, and her powers have drained her considerably. She will be fine, after some rest and recuperation."

"But where is the Daemonslayer?" Evelas inquired, keen emerald eyes surveying the group. "Was he present during the battle?"

Cho nodded. "Yes, he was. We were forced to split up some time ago, he went searching for some of the hostages, while Blaise and myself held off the enemy. I haven't seen him since."

Frosthowler frowned, brows furrowing together. "Then we must scour these woods for any sign of him. Praetor Stormfury, send the gravely wounded up to Hogwarts. The rest of you, organize yourselves and begin searching." He turned to Cho, voice firm. "Now, Champion, tell us where you saw him last."

Before Cho could reply, the sound of lumbering feet emerged from a darkened copse, and Hagrid stumbled out into the clearing, tears in his beetle-black eyes. Tonks followed up behind, her expression torn between grief and revulsion. "We found the captives," she reported, fists clenched in rage. Blood began to flow, her palms cut by her fingernails, but the tough Auror shook off the pain.

"And?" Stormfury asked, dreading the worst.

"Dead. All'a them," Hagrid declared, sobbing noisily, huge tears splattering all over his coat. "But tha's not tha worst 'a it."

"They were sacrificed," Tonks explained, her currently grey eyes miserable and lifeless. "Executed, in some kind of ritual. The Death Eaters painted these symbols on their foreheads in blood, and killed them like sheep." She gagged, as if accosted by a foul stench. "The smell of death was overpowering there, and you could feel something in that clearing, some kind of dark presence, hovering over everything. In all my years as an Auror, I've never seen anything like it. It was more than just the Dark Arts, it was..Merlin, I doun't even want to think about it."

"Ms. Tonks," Stormfury pressed, "What did this symbol look like?"

After some consideration and pause, Tonks answered, "It was a star, eight-pointed as I recall. Some kind of rel-"

Tonks never got a chance to finish, as Frosthowler exploded, drawing his sword in a violent motion. "Heresy! It was a summoning ritual! Chaos has come to this place! Daemons are abroad! The servants of the Dark Gods walk the earth!"

"Foul Death Eater infidels!" Bloodstone roared, brandishing his hammer aloft. "They have summoned daemons to this plane! They will die in the name of the Earthmother, begging for mercy as we send their souls to the abyss!"

"Daemons! We must destroy them, my brethren, cast them back into the Realm of Chaos!" Stormfury screamed, fire blooming at his hands. "Death to the heretic Voldemort! Death to the daemon-summoners! Gaea wills it! _Death!_"

"_Death!_" became the Shadow Hunters' war-cry. Howling like madmen, they charged forward like rabid wolves, screaming praises to Gaea and swearing vengeance upon the Death Eaters. Stormfury and Frosthowler took the lead, engulfed in a zealous fervour, exhorting their comrades forward. Bloodstone joined them, ploughing through the Forest like a giant boulder, ripping out great chunks of wood with horn and fist and hammer. The Order stood, dumbstruck by the sudden rage that overcame the Shadow Hunters upon invoking the thought of daemons. Only Evelas stayed behind, the beautiful high elf shaking her head sadly.

"Okay then, what just happened here?" Blaise asked, pushing a blonde lock from her vision. "What the hell is a daemon?"

"A creature of Chaos, born in the plane of entropy, conceived of the darkest of magiks and summoned by only the most foul of wizards. They exist only to kill, and have long awaited the day to assault our world," Evelas explained, chanting softly, white fire forming around her. "I shall explain all later. Now, we must find the young Champion of Gryffindor. Ravenclaw, lead the way, as best you can."

Cho drew Stormcrow, readying her tired muscles for another fight. "I promised I would never abandon Harry, and I'm not about to do so now. Let's go."

* * *

Harry stood, mesmerized, as the daemonic fireball arched towards him, Runefang falling from nerveless fingers. The Champion made no move to dodge or shield himself from the deadly missile, engulfed by fear, stupefied by the presence of the hellblazers. It was oddly beautiful, seeing the purple-red flame fill his entire vision, like a front-row seat to a forest fire.

A loud shriek cut though Harry's stupor, and Fawkes flew into the path of the hellblazer's attack. The phoenix exploded in a flash of fire and smoke, rich black ashes falling to the snow. Seconds later, an infant Fawkes crawled up from the debris, stunted red feathers smeared with ash. Hissing angrily, the hellblazer made ready for another throw.

But Harry was already moving. Grasping Runefang tightly, the Champion lunged forward with an impressive battle cry, driving it through the daemon, the engraved runes upon the blade glowing bright. The hellblazer screamed in agony, arching its back in its death throes, before evaporating into a cloud of bloody dust, the stench of brimstone causing Harry's eyes to water. Its limbs detached from the body before they too disintegrated, and Harry was left facing a dozen more of the daemons, swallowing back his fear. "Ron, Hermione, get out of here. Run towards the castle. I'll cover you."

Hermione didn't respond, utterly paralysed with terror, knees weak. Ron wasn't much better, his breathing ragged and panicked. "GO!" Harry shouted, hoping to shake them from their fear-struck stupor. His friends remained in place, the dark aura surrounding the hellblazers sapping them of their strength and willpower.

Twisted laughter broke out, and Harry turned to see one of the hellblazers ascend on its hind legs, soulless eyes radiating malice. To his astonishment, he saw the daemon chuckle, its lower jaw splitting wide. "_Foolish mortal_," the creature snarled, warpfire gathering on its claws. "_This world is ours, and you cannot stop us from claiming it._"

"You're just another foe," Harry retorted, holding Runefang at the ready. "You can die, just like anything else."

The hell-borne menace continued laughing, joined by its brethren, hissing and circling the three teens. "_You are strong, mortal. You have power, great power. Feel it flowing through your veins. Taste the ecstasy of the magic! You can't live without it, you feel unstoppable as you call forth the power! We can deliver more. More power, more than you could ever imagine. It's what you want, isn't it? Swear your allegiance to Lord Kharaidon, and this world will be yours for the taking._"

"No," Harry said, swallowing back his bile. "It's not what I want. You can't offer me anything, I have all I need."

"_Not even your godfather?_"

Harry froze, dumbstruck by what he heard, all anger forgotten, his guard lowered. "Sirius…"

The hellblazer laughed, the tone of its voice changing. To Harry's horror, the laughter slowly faded from daemonic to human, becoming a voice quite recognizable. "Harry, it's me," came the voice of Sirius. "God, I'm in so much pain right now. You have no idea what it's like down here. You can free me, Harry! You can stop the pain! Help me, Harry. You can do it!"

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, and he fell to his knees, sobbing. He cried, the sound of Sirius' voice like a knife through the heart. The rational part of his mind gave way to the emotional, and all the fight went out of him, something that a hundred Death Eaters or Voldemort himself couldn't do. The daemons chuckled and laughed, seeing the boy's distress. "_You failed him. You damned him. Swear your fealty to the Dark Gods, and you may bring him back._"

"No."

"_You failed him. You drew him into the trap._"

"No."

"_It was your fault he died. You could have waited, avoided the trap. But you didn't, and now he's dead._"

"No." Harry was begging by this point, pleading for the daemons to go away and stop tormenting him with the ghosts of past mistakes.

"_He's dead because of _you!"

Harry screamed, cursing the daemons to shut up, his rage exploding outwards in the form of the energies of Gryffindor. His body quaked with power, red fire orbiting around him. Feeding on his anger, the arcane magic reached a new and devastating extreme, overwhelming all control. A small part of his mind tried to focus and contain the power, but was quickly swept aside by the rush of energy, the boy's aura causing the snow to melt beneath his feet. Harry laughed insanely, ruled by the energies of Gryffindor. "_I thought I told you to shut up._"

The daemons leapt, howling for blood. Harry met the first with a mystic bolt, blowing the creature apart. Dodging the next attack, he raised Runefang, slicing the monster in twain. A quick spin, and Harry slashed open a daemon's midsection before driving the sword down through its cranium. He wrenched the blade free, parrying a hellblazer's claws, avoiding another blow to his side, then bringing his sword round in a mighty slash. Two of the daemons screamed and dissolved into powder.

Purple-red fireballs rocketed toward him. Harry dodged the first, simulatiously evading a nasty swipe from yet another daemon. The energies of Gryffindor burst forth, coalescing into a shield that blocked a second deadly bolt. The young Gryffindor cried in pain, a daemon's claws cutting a bloody swath across his upper body, three red lines engraved in his flesh. Seizing the aggressor with energy tendrils, Harry split it asunder, limbs and a ruined torso flying in all directions before dissipating. But the others were upon him, slashing and tearing his battle robes apart, trying to get at the man within. Harry bellowed with hate, the energies of Gryffindor reacting instinctively, bursting outwards like a supernova, annihilating five hellblazers in a single furious blast of energy.

The last remaining daemon cackled, a desperate barrage of warpfire bolts erupting from its clawed hands. Harry threw himself to the side, the stench of ozone and sulphur growing thick, purple flames licking away at the dead wood. Another handspring, and Harry sent the energies of Gryffindor at his opponent, a shower of crimson orbs raining down on the creature's position. Snarling, the hellblazer evaded the counterattack, lobbing another three fireballs with incredible speed. Harry brought up the shield again, wincing as the deadly missiles impacted, driving him backwards a few paces, weakening the energy barrier and draining Harry even further. The Champion barely noticed his growing fatigue, driven to kill the daemonic horror, readying his grip on Runefang.

Before the daemon could launch another strike, Harry threw the sword. His expression changed to one of rabid glee as it struck, running the monstrosity through.

To his surprise, the daemon tittered like a schoolgirl, despite the presence of the enchanted blade through its chest. "_Death happens only once_," it intoned. "_What we can do will last for an eternity._"

Light flared as the engraved designs on Runefang glowed brightly, and the daemon vanished into a cloud of brimstone. When Harry's eyes cleared, nothing was left of the hell-borne pack, not even the smell of their departure. The energies of Gryffindor relaxed, setting down inside Harry's soul, the rush of power fading into nothingness. It was over.

Harry sank to his knees, utterly debilitated by the events of the past twenty-four hours. The bloodlust was gone, exchanged with a hollow ache that left him spent and weary. Before the eyes of his best friends, Harry Potter, Champion of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived, slayer of man and daemon, broke down and cried.

It was like that how Cho, the Order and the Shadow Hunters found him, the last hope for the world weeping over his enemies, looking worn beyond his years. "I almost took it," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I almost fell for it." The grief of losing Sirius the year earlier broke free of its restraints, and he cried, opening all the doors and letting the pain out.

Cho knelt down beside him, embracing him tightly. "It's okay, Harry, it's going to be fine. We've beaten him. We drove Voldemort back. We've stopped him."

Eyes glazed over with tears, Harry looked at Cho. Beautiful, lovely Cho. God, he wanted to believe her, but deep down, he knew that Voldemort would never stop coming after him. No one had seen the Dark Lord during the battle, and it was likely that Riddle escape before the Shadow Hunters descended on the area. "Stopped him, Cho? No, this is just the start."

She kissed him briefly on the forehead, squeezing him tightly in an effort to calm him down. "Come on, let's go home."

_Home_, Harry thought. Soft beds in Gryffindor Tower, piping hot food from the kitchens. It wouldn't shake off these feelings of dread that seized his soul, but it would be a welcome distraction. _Sirius, I failed you completely_. "That sounds nice," he replied, leaning his wounded body in Cho's shoulder. "Lead the way."


	19. The Dark Lord's Madness

**Chapter 19: The Dark Lord's Madness**

When the rescue party arrived at the main gate of Hogwarts with the inky black of night at their backs, they were greeted by a throng of jubilant students, the Army of the Marauders cheering and hollering in joy. The merriment ceased as Harry walked through the gatehouse, looking completely worn down, eyes dead and lifeless. Many students stared in shock at the company of Shadow Hunters marching through the stone archway, their weapons bright, jaws grimly set. Several of the female Marauders screamed in shock upon seeing Ron and Hermione, levitated on stretchers by friendly Aurors. Madam Pomfrey went about her work, shoving worried students aside as she approached the newly liberated captives, ushering their bearers towards the Hospital Wing. Harry watched them go, a brief flicker of happiness passing over his face. Despite his sorrow over what had occurred, he was still grateful that his friends were safe. This ember of joy was swallowed up by the horrors he had seen, the image of dying men burned into his brain, the laughter of the hellblazers ringing in his ears.

Absentmindedly, a hand went to his side, feeling the flow of blood from where the hellblazers had struck. His battle robes were covered in deep cuts, some ripping through the armour and slashing the flesh beneath. Harry winced in pain at the thought. If it were not for the energies of Gryffindor, most likely, he would have been torn apart by the daemonic monstrosities. He began to chuckle, causing no few eyes to turn his way. He hadn't even finished the demons lurking within him, the guilt that he harboured and all his past mistakes. He wasn't ready for any more.

While the Order rested for a moment, allowing themselves to relax after their hard-fought battle, Harry pushed his way through the throng, approaching some of the Marauder volunteers who stood by. "And what are you lot doing here, might I ask?" he inquired, voice indignant and brittle.

Susan Bones looked at him with mock surprise. "Why, Harry, I thought you'd appreciate our presence here! After you and your girlfriend decided to leave us, we organized the Army to follow you."

Yawning uproariously, Zacharias Smith slid into position beside her. "Of course, the Old Man wouldn't let us. Instead of honour and glory fighting the Death Eater scum, we got guard duty," he drawled, examining Harry's battered battle robes, the scarlet dragonhide splattered with blood. "Jesus, Harry, what happened to you?"

Harry shook his head, appalled by their ignorance. His anger grew, and he ground his teeth, trying to keep it in check. "It wasn't honourable or glorious, Smith, so if I were you, I'd know what exactly the hell you were describing before you make a comment."

The Army of the Marauders paled at his comment, faces ashen with fear. Harry cursed himself, taking several deep breaths to calm down, removing the last traces of his magic-produced bloodlust from his mind. "Well, thank you for your support anyway. You can return to your dormitories now. The Death Eaters are gone, there's no need to stay out here tonight," he ordered, observing the haze of fear lift over the Army of the Marauders. The past twenty-four hours had run like a slow-motion nightmare for the Hogwarts students, first the brutal Death Eater attack at Hogsmeade, and then the constant tension and worry as Voldemort's forces surrounded the castle. Relief spread over their expressions, but Harry could still detect an aura of discomfort and nervousness around them. The Army of the Marauders had been shaken, and it would take some time to rebuild their battered morale, yet another task he would have to see to in the coming days.

As the Army of the Marauders slowly filed out, a lone figure walked towards Harry, wringing his hands nervously. "I'm sorry, Harry," Neville said, stuttering out an apology. "I just thought that we would be able to help-"

Harry cut off the boy's excuses, his voice supportive and reassuring. "No, it's alright, Neville. You took the initiative and a leadership role. You're to be commended more than anything. Listen, could you do a favour for me? Take eight of the Marauders, and keep watch over the Hospital Wing. Ron and Hermione are there, some wounded Aurors too. Just look out for them, okay? Be prepared to help Madam Pomfrey if she needs some assistance."

Neville nodded in assent. "Sure thing, Harry." He turned to go.

Before he could leave, Harry laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. "One last thing, Neville. Have Fudge or Umbridge given the students any trouble? I saw them earlier in the Forbidden Forest, and no doubt they fled here. The toad didn't try to mess around with the school, did she?"

The slightly pudgy Gryffindor chuckled gleefully, shaking his head. "She tried to. Got halfway through a rant at one of the Ravenclaws before half the Army of the Marauders turned their wands on her. She had Aurors with her, but we could have taken them. Dumbledore managed to calm the situation down before it got out of hand. She and the Minister left along with Dumbledore, attending some conference or another."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, eternally grateful that Umbridge had taken no action against the students. The paranoid Ministry sycophant had been driven from Hogwarts in disgrace, and would jump at the opportunity to exact some revenge against the hated Dumbledore's Army, now known as the Army of the Marauders. He briefly considered the possibility of Ministry reprisals against himself or Cho for their actions, but laughed at the thought. After facing Death Eaters, undead, various Dark creatures, and some of the most horrifying beings imaginable, the idea of a puffed-up Ministry bureaucrat threatening him was ludicrous.

Drawing his wand, Harry pointed at the wound at his side, muttering, "_Restoratius!_" The Advanced Healing Charm sealed the damage instantly, preventing further blood loss and accelerating the healing process. The wound still stung, however, and Harry could feel a dull ache at his side already. Additional potions, including phoenix tears, would need to be used to fully heal the area, but he was glad that there were no lasting ill effects, like the necromantic blast. A do-it-yourself healing job was preferable to staying one moment in the Hospital Wing, and Harry was confident that he had the necessary supplies.

A quick glance told him that Cho and Blaise were no longer present in the hall, the two Champions most likely gone to rest and recuperate. Flexing his weary muscles, Harry decided to join them. Leaving the Order and the Shadow Hunters behind, the Champion of Gryffindor walked a solitary path through the halls, trying not to think of Sirius and let grief consume him again.

* * *

Several minutes later, Harry emerged through the statue of the One-Eyed Witch and entered the Room of Requirement. The enchanted chamber had been converted into an armoury and training facility for the three Champions, and acted as a staging point for their defensive efforts. Racks of weapons lined the walls, and a literal rainbow of hues marked a cache of potions, brewed by the two girls throughout the year. Their battle robes were neatly positioned over wooden mannequins, and the sound of running water meant that one of them had conjured a shower. Three cots had also set up, along with a blazing fireplace, making the Room of Requirement a cozy retreat for Harry and his female comrades-in-arms. Painfully, Harry removed his own armour, not bothering to hang it properly. Instead, his gaze fell over the various rents and tears in the expensive battle robes, hundreds of Galleons worth of dragonhide ruined or in need of desperate repair. Harry winced at the thought. Still, the crimson garments were quite effective during the battle, and could resist anything short of a Killing Curse, although the hellblazers had less difficultly piercing the super-tough material.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, the impact of the daemons' words coming to him. He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to cry over his godfather. Sirius was dead, and nothing would bring him back. Not even a daemon.

Could it?

He halted that train of thought before it got any further. It was a lie, it had to be! Those daemons could not bring Sirius back, it simply wasn't possible. And even if they could, what would be the cost? Would Sirius even be returned to his former self, or be reincarnated as some undead monster? Would Harry's soul be the price? It was too risky, a sacrifice of everything for potentially nothing. And Harry would rather remember Sirius as a fallen hero than give up everything that he had fought and bled for. It was simple as that.

The Champion of Gryffindor mounted Runefang on one of the wall racks, drawing the blade for a moment to examine it in great detail. In contrast to the vicious battle he had just fought, the sword was as polished and unmarked as when he seized it from the Sorting Hat. The ruby encrusting the hilt seemed to glow with a fierce inner light, and the runes spelling out the name of Gryffindor shone bright for an instant before fading. Harry stared at Runefang for some time, analysing the weapon's strange condition and trying to determine its cause.

Cool fingers caressed his temples, the soothing effect lulling Harry to a state of relaxation, Runefang forgotten. The sensation was blissful, and Harry felt himself drifting off, his tired body embracing rest.

A laser beam of pain lanced up his spine, shaking him from his stupor, Harry's deep green eyes snapping open in shock. "Sorry," came Cho's soft voice. "Your back is a mess, Harry. Have you gone to Madam Pomfrey to check this out?"

Harry winced in pain, sitting up and turning to face the Ravenclaw beauty. "Not yet," he replied, feeling a thousand pins in his back. "How bad is it?"

"You might consider some tougher armour," Cho answered in a worried tone. The girl reached over to the potions cabinet, withdrawing a flask of clear liquid that Harry could only assume were phoenix tears. "Take off your shirt."

This definitely got Harry's attention. "Excuse me?"

Cho gave him an odd look before moving to his rear. "I can't heal you though fabric, Harry. And besides, your clothes are nearly ruined. There's some fresh training clothes for you next to your armour."

Harry looked over to his badly damaged battle robes and saw that she was correct. Whether she had placed them there herself, or the Room of Requirement had generated some garments for him, it didn't entirely matter. Complying with his companion's request, he removed his bloodstained shirt, suppressing a curse as the fabric tore away from his skin, the coagulated blood acting as an adhesive. Crossing his arms in front of him, Harry's breathing deepened, and he relaxed as Cho worked her magic.

The lovely Chinese girl's touch was soft and gentle like a summer breeze, matched only by the cool flow of phoenix tears running into his cuts, healing the multitudinous wounds. After a few minutes, Harry's battered body was restored, all the scars of battle forgotten. The young man now healed, Cho began to massage his sore muscles, frowning as she felt his tenseness. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"It's nothing important, Cho," Harry responded, half of him wanting to spill out his every trouble to the exotic Ravenclaw. "I've realized that I can't let the ghosts of the past define my life." It was true, and while Harry would always cherish the memory of Sirius, he wouldn't let those memories to drag him down and keep him from fulfilling his destiny. The paralysing sorrow that threatened to swallow him alive previously that evening had evaporated, the gap filled with a hardness, a bitter hatred against the man who had taken Sirius from him. "Thank you for asking, though. I really appreciate it."

Cho smiled, kissing the back of Harry's neck. The shrewd Ravenclaw understood what he was talking about, and decided to let the matter rest. "It's no problem at all. If you want to talk about it at all, I'll always be here for you," she whispered, holding him close.

Harry exhaled deeply, reassured by Cho's comforting words. "I've faced a lot of things in this war, Cho. I've fought against Voldemort so many times I've lost count." He began to tick off his fingers. "The Philosopher's Stone. The Chamber of Secrets. A half-dozen battles against Voldemort or his Death Eaters. And yet I'm still afraid, but not for me." He turned around, gazing into her lovely chocolate-brown eyes. "Before this war is over, there are going to be more Cedrics', more Sirius', more Hogsmeades. We have this incredible power at our disposal, but I don't think it will be enough."

Cho's eyes radiated empathy, her soul silently weeping for Harry, torn by the burdens he had to bear. "It's not enough without hope, Harry. We can beat Voldemort, we _must_. All it takes is a little bit of faith. I have faith in you to see this war through." She kissed him tenderly, the same spark of affection between them. "I never got a chance to properly thank you, for helping me at Hogsmeade," she said in all seriousness, her voice cracking at the thought. "It was a bad…situation back there, and it could have become much worse, with Malfoy and everything."

_Hogsmeade_, Harry thought, envisioning the terror and mayhem that occurred barely twenty hours earlier. _It was only this morning._ So much had happened after that point; he was overwhelmed by the deluge of memories. "It's okay, Cho, it's okay," he comforted her, holding the lovely Champion close. "I would never abandon you. It's okay. Malfoy's dead now, he can't hurt you any more."

A choked sob escaped her throat, and Harry felt her diamond tears slid down onto his chest. Cho had fought with a skill and courage belying her age during the battle of the Forbidden Forest, and despite the obviously traumatic events she had experienced at Hogsmeade, she had kept going, dishing out more punishment than half a squad of Aurors. Her inner strength never ceased to amaze Harry, but after Hogsmeade, the awakening of the energies of Ravenclaw, and the brutal fighting in the Forbidden Forest, Cho was approaching her limits. Harry held her close, feeling her body quake with tears. Gently, ever so gently, he raised her chin up, kissing away her tears. "I'd rather face a dozen Voldemorts than see you hurt, Cho. And I swear I will always see you safe, no matter what."

Further proclamations of love were silenced by Cho's full lips, drawing Harry into a passionate kiss. Harry returned the gesture with equal desire, one hand brushing her cheek softly, noticing a large bruise marring her flawless features. Her raven-black hair was damp from the shower, and the aroma of lilacs enveloped him, her sweet perfume almost euphoric. Cho wore a simple white nightgown, the thin fabric hugging her well-proportioned curves and extending below the knee. Several bruises and cuts marked Cho's body, but these were fading fast, probably a result of healing potions or phoenix tears. "Merlin, Cho, you're beautiful," Harry whispered, kissing her again, the girl's perfect breasts peeking through the nightgown.

Cho gave a soft moan as Harry began laying a trail of kisses down the curve of her neck, his lips making a steady route to her neckline. "So are you, my _bau-bei_," she exclaimed huskily, her fingers massaging his back, applying gentle pressure to his nerve centres, arousing him even further. "I couldn't bear seeing you injured in the Hospital Wing. I love you, Harry, and it's all-consuming. Barely an hour passes when I don't think about us, and I don't know what life would be like without you…I'm rambling now, aren't I?" she questioned, mind lost in the delirium of her lover's caresses.

Harry brought her mouth in sync with his, each fully relishing the taste of the other. Cho's hands roamed across Harry's upper body, the sensation sending cool shivers up his spine. She in turn whimpered in pleasure as the young Gryffindor cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing the fleshy orbs softly. The Ravenclaw beauty moaned in her mouth, their kisses reaching a frenzied demand now.

The two lovers continued like this for some time, their hands reaching and stroking wherever they could find, their kisses passionate and loving. The danger they had faced during the past twenty-four hours, as well as the thought of losing each other, gave them strength, conquering their exhaustion. Seizing the girl in his arms, Harry walked over to a cot, laying Cho down onto her back, their eyes shining with desire. He lay down beside her, nuzzling the nape of her neck, clutching her womanly hips, a finger tracing the cleft between her buttocks through the fabric. Harry smiled in delight as Cho shuddered, the Ravenclaw running her hands through his messy hair. "I love you," he said, kissing her soft lips, tasting strawberries once more.

"I love you too," Cho replied, stretching her sensual frame. The girl sighed, leaning in towards Harry's chest, wrapping her arms around him, a ringlet of ebony hair descending to her shoulders. Grabbing her wand, she conjured a light blanket, wrapping the sheet around the two. "_Bau-bei_. Beloved one," she whispered tenderly, closing her eyes. In an instant, Cho was asleep, the exertion from the day's events finally catching up to her.

Harry smiled, gently tracing the girl's jawline with a finger, her skin like cream. Lying there beside her, he took the opportunity to study her angelic face, eternally grateful for Cho's presence by his side in all things. Placing one last kiss on her perfect pink lips, Harry laid his head down, arms wrapped around his Ravenclaw lover in a protective embrace. Sleep overcame him quickly, and Harry surrendered to its soothing promise, strawberries and lilacs in his dreams.

* * *

"I must protest this! I protest very strongly! It is not your place to dictate the affairs of the Ministry of Magic!"

Albus Dumbledore sighed, his almost god-like patience wearing thin. Barely had Harry and the Order set out to free the captives, when Cornelius Fudge had run screaming to the front gates, bawling about a Death Eater attack. With the forces of the Order either already present in the Forbidden Forest, or deployed across England, Dumbledore could do nothing but wait. To leave the castle would potentially endanger the students, and the ancient Headmaster wasn't willing to do that. He had been negligent earlier, and four young lives had paid the price, not to mention dozens of Hogsmeade villagers, Aurors, and Order members.

He had never felt so old. While the enemies of the Light plotted and schemed and grew in number, he was forced to deal with bigoted politicians and power-hungry fools in the Ministry, their personal interests' styming the war effort. Even for a man of his magical power and social standing, there was only so much he could do. His best didn't seem like enough these days. The darkness was growing, and he was becoming weaker.

Dumbledore shook aside such thoughts, they served no good purpose. Despite his failings, he would continue to serve the Light to the best of his ability until the conflict was finished. They had suffered, yes. But they needed to focus and keep working, keep striving for success. Hope still remained, only if they seized it.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Headmaster's Office, the cozy room filled with portraits of former Headmasters and –mistresses, stacks of aged and valuable tomes, and the various trinkets and doodads that he had acquired over the decades. Dumbledore looked over the room appreciatively; the damage caused by Harry's raging the previous year fully repaired. He was proud of the boy in so many ways. He had matured into a fine young man, his grief replaced with action, the wild anger substituted by a devotion to his duty and Miss Chang. He had turned out better than Dumbledore had ever hoped, despite his own former desire to shelter Harry from the truth. It had been all for the best…

The Headmaster's reverie was interrupted by the minotaur Bloodstone, his gravely voice filled with menace. "Don't tell us what we can or cannot tell the Ministry of Magic, toad-woman!" he bellowed at Umbridge, black rubbery lips drawn in a nasty smile. "While the loyal warriors of Gaea have fought and died against the shadow, you have done _nothing_. You have many warriors at your command, yet you continue to hide like frightened children under a mother's skirt. Cowards!" The minotaur spat upon the floor, the thick gob of saliva staining the soft Persian rug.

"Filthy half-breed!" Umbridge screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at Bloodstone, her body shaking with fear. "The Ministry of Magic will never join forces with such disgusting heathen _monsters_ as yourself!"

Bloodstone cracked his knuckles ominously, the sound echoing through Dumbledore's office, causing Umbridge to pale. "If it were up to me, toad-woman," the minotaur declared, eyes glazed over with rage, "I would be feasting on your marrow by now. Be silent. By the name of Gaea, if you ever call me a _half-breed_ again, I'll crush your skull like a grape. Clear?"

Dumbledore winced despite himself at the mental image. Quietly clearing his throat, the wizened sage moved to gather the group's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, if we could all calm ourselves. It has been a long day, so perhaps we should stay focused on the task at hand."

"Agreed," Evelas said, the hauntingly beautiful high elf maintaining her disciplined composure despite Umbridge's insults and racial epithets. "We must approach this situation with clear heads and calm hearts. Minister Fudge, surely you can see the value in an alliance between the Ministry and the Council of Gaea. Together, our combined forces will see an end to this evil. I urge you to reconsider your position, and help us work for the betterment of all."

In the wake of Voldemort's most recent attacks, Dumbledore had called this meeting to discuss the course of the war. Riddle had struck across a dozen communities, including Hogsmeade, with many of the weapons in his arsenal. Hundreds lay dead in shattered hamlets and burning villages, and Voldemort had unleashed new terrors against the forces of the Light, undead and daemons. Despite their relative successes at Hogsmeade and in the Forbidden Forest, the Order still cam out behind in terms of shock value, enemies neutralized, and a loss in morale. Personal ego and lack of proper communication had contributed to this disaster, and Dumbledore was determined not to let this happen again. After the return of the Champions and the Order, he had called a meeting amongst himself, Fudge and his Minister aides, and the three Elementalists to discuss the course of the war and find some solutions.

That had been hours ago, the weak rays of the winter sun falling upon the afternoon, and progress was limited. Fudge had agreed to offer additional aid with the Aurors and take a more offensive role against the Dark Lord, but the exact depth of his commitment was vague at best. The politician was merely trying to get on the public's good side, rather than commit extra forces out of any sense of duty or honour. His two closest advisors, Umbridge and Percy Weasley, had argued firmly in the Minister's defence, defecting any criticism or inquiries with all the skill of professional ideologues. Fudge would help them, but only to his own gain.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the Council of Gaea, the three mages looking sternly at the Ministry party. The Elementalists were all in favour of prosecuting the war more proactively, and promised to send squadrons of Shadow Hunters to Britain's aid. Both Bloodstone and Evelas had assured that they would contact their respective peoples and ask for more support, and the Councillors pledged to work alongside the Ministry and the Supreme Confederation of Warlocks. The Headmaster looked into their eyes, seeing only truth. They wanted to fight Voldemort, and understood the dangers that the Dark Lord posed, to both Europe and their own homelands. The high elf Evelas was a model of diplomatic grace, her musical voice gently probing the Minister and trying to come to an accord with the greedy politico. Bloodstone, on the other hand, engaged in the discussions with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. Barely a minute passed when the minotaur swore in his deep, bovine tongue, or threatened a painful death for the Minister and his entourage, or both. Needless to say, this led to some complications. Frosthowler, the Shadow Hunter commander, sat silently, his icy grey eyes analysing the entire scene.

As for Dumbledore himself, he sat alone, trying to mediate the discussion. While he was interested in hearing the recommendations of his subordinates in the Order, it would have to wait. Such matters could be spoken of in private, away from the Ministry's prying eyes and jealous ears. The Order was scattered all over Britain, and a recall effort of his lieutenants would leave much of the island undefended.

"Public opinion would no doubt be against it," Fudge replied, not bothering to look the elf in her jade eyes. "And besides, the Ministry is strong enough to deal with such matters by itself. Our government is stepped in tradition, and no foreign magical army has ever set foot on English soil since the reign of Grindelwald. We will have no need of mercenaries and vigilantes." The last comment hung in the air like foul incense, but Dumbledore ignored it. The Order was secure, free of spies and counter-agents, handpicked by Dumbledore himself. There was no possible way that the Ministry could have learned of its existence.

"We come not as mercenaries, but as allies, Minister Fudge," came Frosthowler's voice, the Shadow Hunter Asgard looking at Cornelius with disgust. "The Shadow Hunters are the holy warriors of Gaea, the divine Earthmother's right hand. You would do well to speak of them with respect." His tone was dangerous, menacing, and Fudge blanched, terrified by Frosthowler's presence.

After a few moments, Fudge regained his composure. "My apologies, sir Frosthowler. If you'll excuse me, the Ministry has business to attend to. I will consider your offer in the meanwhile. Good day," he declared, his expression warped into one of shame and embarrassment, eyes filled with disgust.

Silently, the Minister and his companions filed out into the hall. Umbridge looked upon Bloodstone with utter hatred and loathing, while Percy tried to reassure Fudge about his performance. The door to Dumbledore's study clicked shut, and Bloodstone let out a disdainful laugh, his bulky frame shaking with his chuckles. "Glad to see those fools are gone. Now, let's get down to business."

"We stand with you, Dumbledore," Frosthowler added, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "Together, the Shadow Hunters and the Order of the Phoenix shall purge this evil from our midst, even without the assistance of the Ministry. I understand that Praetor Stormfury has been most helpful to you and your organization."

Dumbledore nodded, the usual twinkle back in his eyes. "Indeed. Besides bolstering the ranks of the Order and contributing his impressive skills to our cause, he has also filled the Defence Against the Dark Arts position here. The students have learned much from him, but by far, his greatest achievement has been instructing the Champions. He has the thanks of the entire Order."

"Stormfury is one of the strongest of the Shadow Hunters, personally trained by myself before my appointment as leader of the Earthmother's holy warriors. I selected him as our liaison because I knew he was capable of any task you set before him," Frosthowler replied. "The Shadow Hunters accompanying us the previous night shall remain behind, a tribute to our alliance. They shall serve you faithfully, and bring swift annihilation to the Death Eater infidels. More will come as the day pass, and soon we shall discover the Dark Lord's stronghold and grind him into dust."

"But what of the Champions?" Evelas asked, her immortal visage shrouded in a deep frown. "If the prophecies hold true, then the Daemonslayer is the key to victory. No amount of Shadow Hunters, no regiments of Aurors, not even ourselves will be of any value if he should fall."

"Then we will make certain that Harry does not," Dumbledore stated, voice bold and confident. "Here comes our young Champion now."

Dressed in light training gear, Harry entered the Headmaster's study with a beaming smile on his face, the haggard weariness gone from his face, green eyes bright with energy. Dumbledore gave a slight smile upon seeing his favourite student hale and healthy. "Good morning, Harry. I trust that you have recovered and are well rested?" he inquired, immediately seeing Harry's jubilant expression.

Harry's smile split even wider, if such a thing was possible. "Yes, Professor, thank you. I had some assistance with my recovery, but I don't think I'm up to another pitched battle at the moment."

Bloodstone chortled at the young warrior. "The Death Eaters will come again, foal-warrior. My heart yearns for the coming combat, and the Council would be delighted to see such skilled fighters such as yourself and the fawn-warriors in battle once more."

"Truly, you have shown great courage, Daemonslayer," Evelas remarked, her posture impeccable, sharp green eyes meeting Harry's own. "Courage and honour, qualities that much of the wizarding world has forgotten."

Not knowing what to say exactly, Harry bowed to the noble high elf, replying, "Thank you. However, I'm pretty sure I'm here for more than just your praises. Was there something you wanted to discuss, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore gave a slight cough, his expression losing all mirth. "Yes, we did, Harry. What I am about to tell you cannot be uttered aloud to anyone, for fear of compromising the entire Order. Can you live with that?"

Harry nodded in affirmation, and Dumbledore continued. "While you were in the grips of the necromantic hex, Avalon volunteered to infiltrate the Ministry, and uncover why they had refrained from sending the Aurors to assist damage-stricken areas."

"Infiltrate?" Harry asked, becoming curious now. "She was sent there to spy on Fudge."

"Correct, Harry," Dumbledore replied, looking rather guilty at this point. "We had hoped to blackmail Fudge and spur him into action. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned, and Avalon only managed to escape with the assistance of Asgard Frosthowler and his Shadow Hunters. The experience was incredibly draining for her, and she barely managed to stay on her feet until she returned to Hogwarts."

"What Avalon discovered is of the utmost importance to the war effort," Frosthowler declared, his eyes boring a hole through Harry's soul. "Several things, actually. First, Minister Fudge has been protecting the assets of pureblood families known to be aligned with the Dark Lord, namely the Malfoys. Fudge uses these assets in order to finance his own personal initiatives and political campaigns. At a time when the Death Eaters are gaining strength, our friend the Minister is allowing the enemy to access these funds, thus supplying them further."

Harry considered the Shadow Hunter's words. If that was true, the Minister was aiding and abetting the Death Eaters, a crime punishable by life imprisonment. With this knowledge in mind, the Order could probably apply some leverage on Fudge and force him to change his policies. He would never be charged for any crime, his immense political power and moral inadequacies would see to that. However, any changes they could force upon Fudge would help them fight Voldemort, as well as clean up Ministry corruption. "Avalon found something else, though, I'm assuming something more than Fudge's dirty laundry."

Evelas spoke, her voice like soft wind-chimes in a summer breeze. "Tell me, Mister Potter, what do you know of daemons?"

Harry felt his blood run cold at the statement, and the hellblazers came to mind, causing him to shudder despite himself. "Not much, I'm afraid. Those creatures in the Forest, those were daemons, right?"

"True," Frosthowler answered, his tone darkening. "Daemons are magical creatures, like phoenixes or basilisks. Unlike such creatures, however, the magical essences of daemons are purely Dark in nature. They are born of Chaotic energies, allowing many varieties of daemons to wield Chaos magicks, like the hellblazers. Be warned, Champion of Gryffindor, daemons are some of the most malevolent entities in existence. They are evil, absolute evil, their sole purpose to bring destruction and suffering to all living things. You are lucky, Daemonslayer. The beasts which you faced in the Forest were but minor foes compared to the almighty evil of Chaos."

Harry brooded over the Shadow Hunter's words, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his voice. Although the entire story sounded like some deranged History of Magic lesson, he had experienced much in his young life that made him consider every possibility. Besides, this wasn't the droning tone of Professor Binns, but the veteran warnings of the head of the Shadow Hunters. "Continue."

Evelas took up the story from here. "There are many opinions on how the universe was formed. The majority of Muggle and wizarding society believe that a catastrophic explosion formed the basis of the universe at the dawn of time. Others imply that an all-powerful God was responsible for all creation. Amongst the followers of Gaea, we believe that the Earthmother created the stars in order to spread life to every corner of the universe. Regardless, many learned sages theorize that at the exact moment of Creation, a _second_ universe was born along with the first, a shadow-universe, a negative plane of existence. The Spirit Walkers refer to this hellish reality as the Realm of Chaos. And it is from this plane of entropy that the daemons come."

"As the Realm of Chaos was created, the daemons spawned along with it," Frosthowler continued, holding his sword in a white-knuckle grip. "Amongst the multitudinous hordes of daemons were eight daemonlords, the Dark Gods of Chaos, each mastering incredible Chaos powers and representing a dark facet of existence. They are gods in nearly every sense of the word, spiteful, hateful creatures, jealous of each other's power. In the Ministry of Magic, Avalon's mind came in contact with such a creature, a being known as Kharaidon, the God of War. The foul one's presence seemed to be focused around one Narcissa Malfoy, piggy-backing on the Death Eater's spirit. It seems that Voldemort has made an alliance with the daemons, for ends unknown."

For a full minute, no one spoke, the thought of the Dark Lord gaining the assistance of an ancient race of Dark creatures almost mind-boggling, the possibilities too horrible to mention. Finally, Harry spoke up, still unclear on a few details. "What do these daemons want?"

"Want, foal-warrior?" Bloodstone asked, eyes glowing with murderous rage. "They want to destroy all life. The Dark Gods and their ilk are trapped within the Realm of Chaos, sealed away, with no means of besieging this plane from their prison. Kharaidon and his brother daemonlords are capable of communing with their mortal servants for short periods of time, but this ability is limited. However, grant them passage to this realm, and nothing will stop them. Their numbers are _legion_, foal-warrior, as many as leaves in an autumn gale! Very few have the power to open a portal for them, but generate one large enough and the damage will be titanic."

"What's in it for Voldemort?" Harry asked, pacing around the room, a look of intense concentration branded on his face. Instinctively, he already knew the answer. Cannon fodder, additional troops to help his cause. The Dark Lord's lust for power would certainly provide enough motivation to engage in such a bargain. But there was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "What could these Dark Gods possibly offer him?"

Frosthowler considered this for a moment. "Very few Dark wizards are strong enough to master Chaos magic, and the Dark Gods exist only as a myth in the minds of most wizards and witches, if not at all. Those few recorded sorcerers who allied themselves with the Eight gained increased physical and magical strength, increased use of the Chaos energies, and-"

"Immortality." Harry's declaration stopped the Shadow Hunter dead in his tracks. "Voldemort wants to become immortal, and he's going to use the daemons to do it."

Evelas coughed slightly, intrigued by the boy's conclusion. "If it so pleases you, could you explain?"

As if seized by divine inspiration, Harry's pacing increased, the evidence being ticked off on his fingers. "Every single time I have faced Voldemort directly, with the exception of the Department of Mysteries, he has always tried to obtain one thing, everlasting life," he said, the words bursting forth now. "In my first year, he tried to capture the Philosopher's Stone, capable of producing an elixir that would restore his physical form and prevent aging. Next, Riddle's diary. He created it so he would be able to open up the Chamber of Secrets after he had left Hogwarts, but it was more than that. It was a backup of his consciousness, a fail-safe if he were ever to fall. Finally, the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's resurrection. He got his body back, after a fashion, but he wasn't completely restored or completely human again. Voldemort is very powerful, and he studied the Dark Arts extensively. Maybe he found something about the daemons, and realized that they could make him immortal!"

Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's encyclopaedic outburst. "It seems that Miss Chang's study habits have rubbed off on you, Harry," the sage joked, his glasses balanced precariously on his hawk-like nose. "Your theory seems quite plausible. Tom has always considered death to be the worst possible fate, and a man of his knowledge and magical strength would be in a position to put a stopper on it. But how would he go about doing such a thing? The magical power required to make someone immortal would be immense. And what would they want in return?"

"We must also consider how strong the bond between Voldemort and Kharaidon is," Evelas added. "If the Dark Lord is merely serving the Dark Gods whenever he sees fit, then the prospects of them granting such a boon are unlikely. This points to a more extended relationship between the two."

"It has to be it!" Harry crowed, an obsessive light in his eyes. "The whole pureblood supremacy angle he supports is a bloody sham. A smokescreen meant to gain support and followers. No, he wants to live forever. Well, daemons or no daemons, he has to be stopped, and I'm the one to do it."

Bloodstone snorted at this seeming statement of bravado. "Not many wizards would boast about such a thing. You're either very brave or very foolish, foal-warrior. What makes you think that you can kill the Dark Lord?" he demanded sternly, looking at the human boy with something akin to contempt.

Harry looked the minotaur in the eyes, unwilling to back down from this challenge. "If not me, then who?" he replied, swallowing nervously, watching Bloodstone's grim expression change to one of anger. Tense seconds past, with none of the spectators willing to throw themselves between the two.

Finally, Bloodstone began to laugh heartily, his ritual beard shaking with his mirth. "Truly, you are a bold warrior, Daemonslayer!" he laughed, causing a few paintings to dislodge from the wall. "You have the support of the Council of Gaea, young one. And if your skills match your audacity, then the war is good as won!"

The minotaur dissolved into a fit of chortles, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _He was testing me!_ Then and there, Harry resolved _never_ to get on the bad side of Cairne Bloodstone…

Frosthowler cleared his throat, signalling an end to the meeting. "If that is all, I believe we shall return and inform the rest of the Council. Dumbledore, Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore nodded, his level and calm. "Magnus. Farewell, my friends. Know that the Order will always be with you."

The Council of Gaea filed out of the study, Evelas flashing Harry a gentle smile before she disappeared out the doorway. In the space of mere moments, Harry and Dumbledore were alone, the Headmaster laughing softly. "Well done, Harry. I'm sorry to drag you into such tedious negotiations, despite their importance."

Harry waved away the apology, hard green eyes meeting the soft blue orbs of the Headmaster. "I'm committed, Dumbledore. My entire life has been defined by this war, and I can't escape it even if I tried. I will fight Voldemort, regardless of whatever he throws at me, daemons, Death Eaters or otherwise." He paused, formulating his next words carefully. "You've kept secrets from me, and I will never forget what you hid, Dumbledore. However, I think I understand why you did it. I don't particularly like it, but I understand nonetheless. This war needs to be won by any means necessary, and we need to work together, all of us. Can I trust you from now on?" he inquired, clenching his fists at his side, face a mask of calm.

"Yes, Harry, you can trust me. Should you require any assistance, further training perhaps, I will embrace your efforts wholeheartedly."

Dumbledore's voice echoed sincerity, and Harry allowed himself to relax, the opening play gone in his favour. "Actually, I do need your assistance in two matters. First, I want Cho and her family under Order protection. The Death Eaters may strike at her in order to get to me, and I need your guarantee to ensure that doesn't happen. Second, I want in the Order, Cho and Blaise too. If any of my other friends want to join, they should be allowed to as well."

The Headmaster refrained from responding, ancient brows furrowed in thought as he processed Harry's demands. After a few moments, he replied, "I will deploy a squad of Order volunteers near the Chang estate, and additional proximity wardings will be conjured in the local area. You have my word that Miss Chang's family will be defended. As to your second request, my stance stands unchanged. Only full adults may join the Order, not students, despite their skills." Dumbledore held up a hand, halting Harry's flow of complaints. "However, a compromise. I shall keep you informed of any developments in the war effort, as well as any information our spies in the Order gleam about Voldemort's movements. Should you require any additional training, I am certain that Professor Stormfury or Miss Tonks will be able to accommodate you."

Harry's jaw dropped at the Headmaster's offer. While actually being a part of the Order would have been ideal, having some first-hand information about the conflict would alleviate his worry considerably. Cho's safety, however, was his primary concern. "Thanks, Professor. It really means a lot to me."

"No, Harry, it is I who should be thanking you. Your actions in Hogsmeade helped to save the lives of many students, and you risked your life to defend this school and your friends. We are in your debt, and the entire school shall recognize your extraordinary contribution. Thank you."

Despite himself, Harry blushed at his compliments. "You're welcome, Professor. Well, I'd best check on Ron and Hermione." _And Cho_, he thought, envisioning the Champion of Ravenclaw in her form-fitting nightdress.

"One last thing, Harry," Dumbledore interjected, rousing Harry from his visions of Cho. "Before she escaped the Ministry, Avalon discovered that something had been stolen from the Department of Mysteries. A soul was taken from beyond the veil."

_The veil_. Harry's head snapped up in shock. "Who did they take?"

"I wish I could reassure you that Sirius was undefiled, but I'm not sure. The veil, Harry, is an entranceway, connecting the physical world to the afterlife. Anything that passes through it dies. Avalon is a notable exception to this rule. Somehow, she was able to immerse her arm in the archway without suffering any harm. Perhaps her telepathic powers allowed her to do this."

Harry swallowed back his fear, the memory of Sirius' death playing in his mind. "So this…arch, it essentially leads to beyond, or wherever. Maybe it's some other soul?"

"Most likely, Harry," Dumbledore replied, stroking his white beard. "We have no method of determining _which_ soul was taken, or when, or for what purpose. Another mystery to solve before this war is over. Regardless, I shall set our spies on the search. Mayhaps we can determine Voldemort's intent in obtaining it.

"Because of the attack on Hogsmeade, classes shall be cancelled for the next week, to give the students time to cope. Enjoy yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said, winking at the Champion.

And thus, the two men went about their duties, both happy to set aside their past differences and work together for the common good. Dumbledore managed a last brief smile before going back to work, the chirps of Fawkes in the background. _It's all up to you now._


	20. Amends

**Chapter 20: Amends**

December 21st, the Winter Solstice arrived at Hogwarts in the form of a raging blizzard, the howling wind lashing at windows and branches. Copious amounts of snow descended upon the school, shrouding the rooftops and ramparts in a soft white blanket. In the first official days of winter, Stormfury led the Shadow Hunters in prayer, thanking the Earthmother for her gifts of the previous summer, and the desire that they may see such days again.

Winter also saw Hogwarts armed for war. The swords of the Shadow Hunters were as cold and sharp as the huge icicles that lined the eavestroughs and battlements, perfectly formed. Gaea's warriors maintained their stoic vigil over the school, faces grim beneath heavy cloaks and hoods. Suits of armour patrolled the corridors wielding pike and sword, their inhuman footfalls in perfect unison, the enchantments driving the automations working without pause. The rich, charcoal odour of pipe smoke wafted from the outer towers, squads of Aurors cursing the bitter cold as they peered off into the distance. Beneath defences both magical and physical, Hogwarts stood secure, a monolith of ice and rock looming over the Forbidden Forest. Snug and comfortable in their Common Rooms, the students took full advantage of Dumbledore's cancellation of classes, spending time to mourn over fallen loved ones, catch up on schoolwork, or just plain relax.

For the inhabitants of ruined Hogsmeade, however, this winter would be burned into their common psyche as one of the worst. The villagers had returned home to the dead of winter, their town reduced to black ashes and scorched timbers. Seizing the opportunity, Minister Fudge provided Galleons and workers to help the townsfolk rebuild, but it would never be truly the same again. Even worse, they were left in the cold as reconstruction commenced, the intensity and fury of the storms overwhelming even their charms and heating spells. Shivering, hunger and without hope, the people of Hogsmeade buckled down and did their best to get on with life. The Hogwarts staff assisted the townsfolk in their endeavours, and the Aurors extended their defensive perimeter to cover the village.

Eventually, the blizzards faded, and a gentle calm extended over Hogwarts. Many students were seen romping throughout the fields, engaging in furious snowball fights. Girls talked in excited whispers, giggling as they described their outfits for the upcoming Yule Ball, whilst the boys bemoaned their fortunes and tried to work up the courage to ask out potential dates. Some students were merely content to think of home, of filling Christmas dinners and the warm embrace of family, of peaceful holidays and merriment.

Ron and Hermione recovered quickly from their ordeal in the Forbidden Forest, and were seen up and about in no time. Harry had to suppress a grin the first time he saw the two Gryffindors holding hands, their faces wreathed in happiness. After denying it for some six-odd years, they had finally gotten together. _About damn time_, Harry thought, chuckling to himself. Besides his mirth over Ron and Hermione's relationship, he was glad that the two were unharmed. As much as he loved Cho, Ron and Hermione also meant a lot to him. Hopefully, he would be able to strengthen their friendship in the coming days, and spend some time with his best mates. Cho and Hermione had formed an unlikely friendship earlier, and Ron had come to accept the beautiful Seeker into the fold. Between the four of them, Harry was certain that they would be able to conquer any problem set before them, Voldemort or otherwise.

Ravenclaw was scheduled to play Slytherin before the beginning of holidays, sending the school buzzing, the thought of another exciting Quidditch match overriding any fear of the Dark Lord, at least temporarily. While Harry was certain he would enjoy seeing Malfoy getting thrashed by the beautiful Ravenclaw, it also meant that Harry and Cho would be spending less time with each other until the game was over, as the Chinese girl would have her hands full practicing with her team. Still, Harry did not deny Cho her independence, and promised to endure. They could make up any time lost during the Yule Ball. Besides, being separated from Cho for a little while was a small price to pay for Malfoy being humiliated in front of the entire school. The thought made Harry smile.

As per usual, tensions rose in the days leading up to the match, with ambushes, duels and sporadic brawls breaking out between roving groups of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. The situation was aggravated by the butchery at Hogsmeade, many Ravenclaws taking the opportunity to punish Death Eater-supporters within the school for their crimes. If anything, Slytherin had found itself a virtual pariah inside Hogwarts, whilst Harry and the Army of the Marauders gained increased support from students and teachers alike.

Finally, the day of the match came. The Quidditch Pitch was packed full with cheering students, the grand majority wearing blue Ravenclaw scarves. The gonfalon of Ravenclaw waved in the gentle winter wind, held in the frail grip of Luna Lovegood, her sea-green eyes staring into the distance. After a solid victory over Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw stood just behind Gryffindor in the standards, and were in a prime position to eliminate Slytherin from the running for the Quidditch Cup. More than anything, Cho and the Ravenclaws wanted payback for Hogsmeade, and if they couldn't get it from the Death Eaters themselves, then they'd have to extract the payment from the Slytherins. With so much pride, honour and hatred riding on this game, neither side were willing to lose.

In the Gryffindor section of the stands, Harry stood with his friends, waiting for the Ravenclaw team to emerge onto the Pitch itself. The young Champion was in good spirits, enjoying the company of his friends and awaiting the spectacle of a Quidditch match. "Don't bother getting comfortable, gentlemen. Cho will have the Snitch so fast your arses will have hardly warmed the bench," he declared, a royal blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

The Gryffindors laughed uproariously at Harry's jibe. "Just remember for the Final, Harry," Ron reminded him jokingly. "When we play Ravenclaw, keep your eyes on the Snitch and not on Cho, okay mate? She may be amazing, but you can't mount Cho on the mantelpiece in McGonagall's office." More chuckles greeted this statement.

Harry smiled at Ron's lewd comment. "Sure thing, Captain. While we're at it, make sure you keep your eyes on the Quaffle and not on Hermione during the match. The temptation might be too much for you to bear."

Hermione gasped, turning red with embarrassment, laughter surrounding her. "Git," she stage-whispered, brown eyes filled with equal parts mirth and horror. "Well, Ronald, I'm so glad I chose you over this scruffy-haired bugger. Are you ready for the Ball?"

"Yes, dear," Ron grumbled, wrapping his arms around her. Further discussion or humour was cut off, as Dean's voice sounded over the stadium, and the players poured out. Harry clapped loudly and cheered for the Ravenclaws, his vision centred on a raven-haired figure that strode confidently out onto the snow.

* * *

Cho Chang eyed her Slytherin opponents warily as the two teams marched towards the centre of the Pitch, facing each other in two parallel lines. Her blue Quidditch robes were adorned by the symbol of Captaincy, a rank that many of the spectators probably felt was beyond her abilities. Her aging Comet Two-Sixty hung across her back, much like her katana would before battle. For Cho, Quidditch was a noble sport, and to not give her all while playing was shameful to say the least. It was her first rebellion from the wishes of her parents, her first love. She asked no quarter from her opponents, and gave none in return, but she respected them as fellow athletes and as a challenge.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, were nothing more than spoiled bullies on broomsticks. They had no idea of the innate beauty of Quidditch, the unsoiled exhilaration of open flight, the thrill of a breakneck chase for the Snitch. They didn't deserve to step out onto the Pitch, and Cho would make them regret ever picking up a broom.

Beside her, Michael Corner waited anxiously for a signal from his Captain. "What's your plan, Cho?" he asked, clutching his broom tightly. The Head Boy looked over the enemy team, commenting "Doesn't look like they'll react well to a fluid offence."

Cho nodded. "Agreed. Remember what we practiced. We'll start with the Bismarck Manoeuvre, then change in mid-flight," she whispered out the corner of her mouth. "Watch my hands."

Michael nodded and stepped back. Despite their abortive relationship and arguments regarding the Gryffindors, the two Ravenclaws still trusted each other when it came to Quidditch. Corner wanted to win as much as Cho did, and he wasn't willing to jeopardize his team's success, or so she hoped. Cho let her gaze pass over the entire Ravenclaw team, and smiled with satisfaction. The six Ravenclaws that comprised the group alongside her were veteran players with years of experience under their belts. They wouldn't fail today.

Directly across from her, Malfoy gave his sickening trademark smirk. "What's the matter, Chang? Don't get enough satisfaction from Potter; you have to ride something else?" The Slytherins chuckled like morons, which only seemed to goad him further. "If you ever want to ditch Potty and get with a real man, I'll be here for you."

Fuming, Michael stormed forward as if to hit Malfoy, anger and…something else etched in his eyes. Cho raised an arm, restraining her former boyfriend from doing anything stupid. "Bugger off, Malfoy," she snapped, flipping her raven-black hair. "I wouldn't let you stick that cold, tiny pencil into me if the survival of humanity depended on it. That's what you get when you marry your own cousins, you in-bred git."

Chortles and chuckles broke out amongst the Ravenclaws, and Malfoy paled at her audacity, a horrified look on his face. Further insults were spared for the moment, as Dumbledore ascended to the Staff Box, his normally kind eyes reflecting pain and anguish. The audience fell silent immediately, and all eyes turned to the Headmaster, standing like an ancient god over the assembled masses. When he spoke, hearts quailed to hear his voice filled with sorrow.

"Students of Hogwarts," Dumbledore declared, raising his hands as if in benediction. "Before this game commences, I ask that we observe a moment of silence for all those lost in the Dark Lord's most recent offensive. Four among them were Hogwarts students much like yourselves. Some of you knew them, some of you were friends, but all of us have felt the effects of their loss. It is a terrible thing for those four young lives to be taken from us, well before their time. Please, a moment of silence as we consider their lives and their deaths."

A deathly quiet fell over the Quidditch Pitch, broken only by Malfoy's inane chuckles, quickly silenced by a sharp stare from Professor McGonagall. Cho heard a few sobs sound from the audience, and a tear ran down her own cheek, the sudden emotional impact coming to her. How many would have to die before the war was over? Hopefully, only one. _Voldemort._

Dumbledore spoke again, his voice full of thunder and spirit. "We have suffered too much during this war. Too much potential has been lost, stolen from us by the Death Eaters, in the form of our fallen friends. Yet, we must never forget _who we are!_ We must never forget that which we stand for, or the values that we hold dear and have defended since the time of the Founders. And we must _never_ submit to violence and tyranny in any form! This school, this society that we have built is based on an _idea_, that we can live in peace, co-existing with one another and working together to improve. It cannot be destroyed by force of arms or by intolerance. Fear not the darkness, for we can, and will, defeat it!"

The entire stadium erupted in a thunderous roar, the students unleashing all their hatred and fear in a single mighty bellow, pumping their fists into the air. The Slytherins stayed completely silent, glaring at the remaining three Houses with contempt. Malfoy turned red with embarrassment and anger, the spoiled Slytherin hissing under his breath at the howling tide of students who cursed the Dark Lord's name. Dumbledore allowed them to continue for a moment longer before signalling for quiet. "It is good to see that you are without fear. Now, if we are done with such grim matters, let us turn our attention to our bold Quidditch players!" The crowd cheered, and Dumbledore returned to his seat with a smile adorning his face, confident that some sense of hope and reassurance had been restored.

Malfoy, meanwhile, scoffed at the Headmaster's remarks, turning to his team. "Mount up, everyone," he ordered, raising his voice so that Cho could hear. "Let's not waste time crying over worthless peasant trash, Mudbloods, or _spares_."

Cho clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. _Oh, they are so going to burn_, she thought, resisting the urge to strike Malfoy's idiotic grin off his face. _One more thing they have to answer for._

Madam Hooch descended on her own broom, watching both sides with her usual hawk-like intensity. "Captains, shake hands! Mount your brooms!" The elderly Flying Mistress dragged out the wooden chest filled with the Quidditch balls, the box shaking and rattling violently.

Swallowing her bile, Cho met Malfoy's soft and fragile hand in her own, the Slytherin leering at her unpleasantly throughout the entire process. In another insult, Malfoy proceeded to blow the Chinese girl a kiss. Cho turned away disgusted, while Corner chomped on the bit at the chance to take the Slytherin boy out.

With a whirr of motion, the Quaffle, Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were released from their oaken prison, screaming into the open winter sky like a flock of half-starved eagles. The screech of Hooch's whistle sent the players forward, and the game was on, hundreds of students cheering for their respective teams. The Ravenclaw Chasers struck hard and fast, scoring first blood as they seized the Quaffle and completely outmanoeuvred the Slytherin Keeper. Cho shouted some congratulations to the Chasers, before holding position high above the Pitch, keen chocolate-brown eyes greedily searching for the Snitch. Seeing no sign of the winged orb, Cho began a methodical search pattern, soaring above the furious melee, keeping an eye out for her team and her target.

Meanwhile, Michael Corner led the Ravenclaw Chasers in the Bismark Manoeuvre, laughing at the Slytherin's confusion. The Chasers flew around the Slytherin Zone in wide arcs, occasionally brushing close to one another. As they did, the Quaffle was subtly exchanged from one player to the next, distracting the opposing team and preventing an interception. After a minute of this constant passing, the Chasers flew towards the Slytherin goal in tight formation, tossing the Quaffle back and forth, before finally hammering it home. The Ravenclaws worked with incredible precision and teamwork, the clumsy Slytherin team completely befuddled and unable to put up a solid defence. Within fifteen minutes of the opening whistle, Ravenclaw was ahead by forty points, and the number just kept rising.

Cho buzzed in front of the nearest Slytherin Chaser, causing him to fumble and lose possession. Dodging a well-aimed Bludger, she banked right, blocking another Slytherin Chaser from intercepting the Quaffle, allowing Ravenclaw to score yet again.

A flicker of gold flashed in her eye, and Cho accelerated, seeing the Snitch hovering near the Ravenclaw goalposts. Coaxing additional speed out of her old Comet, Cho gained altitude, slowing her slightly, but allowing for a high-speed dive. Hopefully, Malfoy hadn't seen it…

The hiss of displaced air sounded, and Cho ducked, laying her lithe body flat on the broom, the Bludger screaming overhead past her ear. Dodging another black orb, Cho saw the two Slytherin Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle, bearing down on her with clubs at the ready. A quick glance confirmed her fears. They were just a distraction, as Malfoy sped towards the Snitch, the glint of victory in his eyes.

Cho went into a sharp dive, avoiding the swing of Crabbe's club. The beautiful Ravenclaw summoned every last bit of speed from her broom, trying to close the gap between herself and the Snitch. The ground rushed up towards her, but Cho only increased her speed, keeping her head down to reduce drag. Malfoy was close now, face twisted into a smirk of triumph. His fingers brushed the golden casing of the Snitch…

Like a rocket, Cho was there, slapping Malfoy's hand aside before he could seize his prey. The Snitch shot right, towards the middle of the Pitch. Cho pursued, her broom groaning from the stress of the high-speed turn. Barrelling through a formation of Slytherin Chasers, Cho kept on the tail of the Snitch, swooping low to avoid interfering with the Ravenclaw defence. She heard Dean Thomas' voice blare across the stands, but ignored his play-by-play commentary. The Snitch was her only concern, and the athletic Ravenclaw hunted the winged walnut with devout focus, her aging broom slowly catching up. Raising her eyes towards the Ravenclaw Chasers, she gestured forcefully with her hands, pointing towards the enemy goal.

Immediately, the Ravenclaw team changed tactics. The three Chasers and pair of Beaters formed a tight formation, their leg guards scraping against one another. The Beaters led the charge, their clubs bashing away at offending Bludgers, as well as any Slytherin dumb enough to get in their way, shielding the Chasers as they held the Quaffle. As the packed formation closed in on the Slytherin goal, it exploded outwards, the Ravenclaw Chasers shrieking out at random angles to score. With all their focus on the earlier formation, the Slytherins had difficultly reacting to this wide-spread attack, their defences crumbling. With this latest goal, the score stood at 120-50 for Ravenclaw, but the Snitch would still decide the match. Concentrating on the task at hand, Cho noticed that Malfoy was tailing her doggedly, the spoiled Slytherin intending for Cho to find the Snitch for him.

Cho looked ahead. The Snitch was flying wildly, trying to evade capture, but she stayed on it, her eyes focused on the golden orb. Her cunning mind thought of a solution, all the while focused on the game. While Malfoy's skills were no match for hers, his Nimbus Two Thousand and One gave him a slight advantage. After following her for a while, he'd simply let the superior acceleration of the Nimbus carry the day.

Speed wouldn't win this game. Skill and cunning would.

She needed a distraction, something to keep Malfoy occupied until she could secure victory. Her mind travelled back to the previous game between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Harry's winning dive. Her thoughts went back to the Quidditch World Cup, and Moran's desperate play. _I have it!_

Calmly, Cho gained altitude, all the while keeping her eye on the Snitch. Malfoy followed, predictably. The stands shrank below them, and still the beautiful Ravenclaw climbed, praying that Malfoy would not see the Snitch hovering near the goalposts, below and in front of their position. Her prayers were realized as the Slytherin doggedly continued to tail her, and her heart raced with exhilaration, knowing that she could pull it off.

As the towers of the Quidditch Pitch shrank below her, Cho cut her forward speed and dropped like a stone, her broom nose-diving towards the snow-covered knoll a hundred metres below them. The Ravenclaw Seeker sped towards the ground like an out-of-control rocket, her raven-black hair whipping in the wind. She made no effort to slow down or regain altitude, instead plummeting like a fallen angel. Screams of shock and excitement sounded from the crowd.

"Chang's diving!" Dean shouted from the announcer's booth. "Chang has seen the Snitch!"

* * *

Malfoy swore venomously, and dove with her, the spoiled Slytherin following her trail as she descended. _I won't let her take it!_ his thoughts screamed, and he shouted in rage, pushing his broom to the limit. It was bad enough that Potter kept beating him in Quidditch. He wouldn't let some slip of a Ravenclaw slut stop him!

The spoiled Slytherin accelerated, eyes following the reach of Chang's hand. Oddly enough, the betraying glimmer of the Snitch remained absent from his sight, but there was no time to consider that. Malfoy screamed in triumph as he passed the Chinese girl, giving her a rough shove. Victory was his!

A shocked cry came up from the stands, and Malfoy turned, in amazement, to see Chang pull up and race towards the _opposite_ end of the Pitch. Within a few moments, the Ravenclaw raised her fist in triumph, and a regiment of blue-robed witches and wizards erupted with cheers. Gold flashed in her clenched fist, and the Slytherin realized that he had been screwed.

It was his last thought before the ground rushed up with a temper, sending the spoiled young pureblood flying from his broom. The hand-crafted Nimbus dissolved into so many splinters of wood, and Malfoy skidded twenty feet across the snow before coming to rest, limp as a rag-doll.

* * *

Cho shrieked in happiness, clutching the Snitch in her right hand. The Ravenclaw Seeker performed a few barrel-rolls just for the heck of it, before six blue robed missiles swarmed her, shouting and cheering like there was no tomorrow. Within the stands, three Houses screamed her name, pumping their fists into the air. Cho caught a glimpse of Harry, green eyes filled with pride and happiness. She laughed, gleeful that she had won and taught the Slytherins a lesson. She felt free, her soul released upon flight. It was a sense of contentment that no one could take away from her, and she guarded it closely.

"300-70, Ravenclaw!" Madam Hooch shouted, blowing the whistle to end the game. With this solid victory, Slytherin was eliminated from further play, and Ravenclaw would move on to the championship game. This was a certainty, with Hufflepuff well behind in the standings and Gryffindor poised to beat them easily.

"Well done, Cho! Bloody well done!" Michael shouted, pounding her back with glee.

"You too, Michael. You guys flew circles around them!" Cho replied, smiling, showing her white teeth. "All that practice definitely paid off. Why don't you guys head toward the Tower, and start preparing for the inevitable celebration. I'll catch up with you later."

"Will you be joining us tonight?" Michael inquired, his face turning red as Harry and company ran up towards them. "We can't celebrate with the team heroine present."

Cho considered for a moment. "Probably. Don't worry about me, Mike, just enjoy yourself. The entire team earned this victory, so just relax for the time being."

Michael stalked away, throwing a hateful glare at Harry as the Gryffindor seized Cho in a tight embrace. "Excellent work, Cho. It's good to see you flying again. Congratulations," Harry declared, kissing her softly.

Ron whistled. "And just when we thought that winning the Cup would be easy. Oh well, it'll be good to have some actual competition for a change," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "It looks like it'll be Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw for this year's final, Chang. Sure you don't want to forfeit now?"

"Perish the thought," Cho answered, snuggling up to Harry. "If you have any unfinished business with the Quidditch Cup, make peace with it now. You won't be seeing it after the game." The Gryffindors laughed at the statement, and the good-natured insults continued as the entire group walked back up to the castle.

Ron laughed, seeing Malfoy being helped off of the Pitch, a dazed expression on his face. "A Wronski Feint, Cho! Bloody excellent job!"

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, please watch your language," she chastised her boyfriend, gently holding his hand. "Although, I have to admit, the git _does_ deserve it…"

"That's my girl," Ron said, putting an arm around her waist. She blushed ever so slightly, and a smile came to her lips. Ron continued, voice filled with almost malevolent glee. "Maybe he'll have learned his lesson this time."

"Probably not," Cho answered, sheathing her broom. "Malfoy is driven by jealously and a lust of power. His father is dead, his name and reputation has been slandered, the fear and respect he maintains from the Slytherins will no doubt fade away. He will want revenge for these things. He'll be coming after us soon enough."

"Malfoy can't hold a candle to any one of us in a duel," Harry added, reassuring the group. "I don't want to underestimate him though. After the holidays, we'll put the Army of the Marauders through some additional training, just to be prepared. How about we meet in the Room of Requirement tonight to discuss it?"

Cho nodded in assent, noticing a slight hint of worry in her lover's eyes. She recognized the look, an odd foreboding whenever his thoughts drifted to the war. The Ravenclaw turned to the rest of the group and flashed a sweet smile. "Well then, I'd best go change out of these robes. I'll see you all later. If you'd like, come to Ravenclaw Tower tonight after the meeting, there'll be a party for everyone."

The group split up, making their separate ways up to the castle and the comfort of their Common Rooms. Harry and Cho intentionally lagged behind, their footsteps crunching on packed snow. The Ravenclaw beauty took a moment to observe the tranquility of the Grounds, Hagrid's cabin, its chimney puffing grey smoke towards the blue sky. Above them sat Hogwarts, a towering citadel, the banners of the four Houses waving in the breeze. The Forbidden Forest looked almost pleasant from here, dead limbs covered thick with snow. It was hard to imagine that, beyond the peace of the school, wizards and witches fought for their very survival. She shivered, not due to the cold.

Without a word, Harry removed his own jacket, covering the girl's shoulders. "You were great today," he said, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Harry," Cho replied, returning the gesture. Her full lips curved into a frown as she looked into his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Harry smiled, kissing her again. "I'm going to tell my friends about the Prophecies. Now that Voldemort has learned them and complete secrecy is gone, I should tell them. They've stood by me after all this; I doubt either Prophecy will change that. Besides, they deserve the whole truth." There was a sense of relief in his voice, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "It's funny. I kept the truth from them to ensure their safety, just like Dumbledore did with me. Guess we're not so different after all."

Cho felt a pang of regret for this man. _Why must he always be faced with these choices?_ "I'll come with you," she declared, facing him resolutely.

Harry thought about for a moment, then shook his head. "No, it's alright; I'll be able to handle it. You just take it easy. You beat Malfoy in Quidditch! You deserve to rest."

"No way you're going to get rid of me that easy," Cho snapped, her face becoming flushed with indignation. "And besides, you sound surprised that I actually trounced the slimy git!"

Harry laughed, unable to help himself, his merry chuckles floating on the cold winter breeze. After a moment, Cho joined in, her fiery temper fading fast. "I'm sorry, Harry, I just wanted to help-"

The young Gryffindor silenced her with a gentle kiss. "It's fine, Cho. I just need to deal with this on my own, okay? I appreciate the gesture, though, make no mistake. You won't mind if I come to the Ravenclaw party?"

Cho looked at him like he was an ogre. "Of course, Harry! I am the heroine of the hour," she said, assuming a suitably mythic pose. "Vanquisher of pure-blooded Slytherin gits, humbler of stuck-up rich bastards. I doubt anyone will complain, and if they do, they can just bugger off." She slowly walked up to Harry, putting her arms around him. "I'd love to see you in Ravenclaw Tower tonight."

"I'll be there," Harry whispered, watching the beautiful Ravenclaw ascend the snow-covered path. He breathed deep, letting the peaceful setting delude his senses, and a great calm fell upon him. He knew exactly who he was now. Every illusion and every false idol had been stripped away, and Harry James Potter understood his destiny. _I will beat him. I must.

* * *

_

Later that night, Harry rested in the Room of Requirement, reclining on a conjured sofa and waiting for his friends to arrive. The homemade armoury was gone, the assorted weapons concealed behind false wall panels, the potion cabinet hidden under a Ravenclaw tapestry. Instead, the room took on a cozier atmosphere, one more suited for quiet conversation than preparing for battle, with plenty of chairs and sofas arranged for his visitors. Absent-mindedly, Harry drew his wand, spinning the wooden instrument in his weathered grip. He pictured the first time he had laid eyes on it, in Ollivander's shop six years ago. Harry gave a slight smile, remembering the nervous boy he once was. What would that boy think, thrust into a world beyond his understanding, to see him now, six years gone? A warrior and role model for students and adults alike. The only hope for the Light against Voldemort.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor beyond, and Harry instinctively aimed his wand at the passageway. Seconds later, Hermione emerged, her signature brunette mop betraying her presence immediately. "Hello, Harry!" she greeted him, taking a moment to drink in her surroundings. "Oh, Harry, did you do all this? Well done!"

Harry smiled, inviting Hermione to take a seat. "It was the Room, mostly. I just cleared out and stored some of the equipment left around." He paused for a moment, turning to the Muggle-born witch. "I'm glad to see that you've recovered."

She blushed, her soft face glowing with joy. "We wouldn't have made it if not for you," Hermione asserted, cinnamon-brown eyes meeting his, full of curiosity and intellect. "You called us here for more than the Army, didn't you?" she questioned gently.

"Excuse me?" came Harry's response. _Well, at least it's out in the open_.

"Harry, I have known you for six years now. We've been the best of friends, so I can tell when you're hiding something," Hermione declared, biting her lower lip nervously. "I also know that you wouldn't try to deceive us maliciously. What is it, Harry? If you want to talk about it…"

The young Champion smiled, relieved that Hermione wasn't particularly angry with him. "It's something incredibly important, Hermione. I know how to end the war."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and complete shock reflected in her eyes. A strangled croak sounded from her throat, and for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was left speechless. After a moment, she regained her voice, and squealed in excitement. "Oh, Harry! That's wonderful!" she gushed, pacing around the room, quite literally bouncing with energy. "What is it, Harry? It is a spell, a weapon of some kind, an artefact, Voldemort's weakness?"

"Easy, Hermione!" Harry said, chuckling to himself. His tone darkened as he continued. "I was going to tell all of you, actually. I know how to end the war, but it's no silver bullet, but it helps us to understand what must be done."

"Wha-" Hermione fell silent for a moment, before answering her own query. "It's the Prophecy!"

"That and more. I'll explain everything once the others arrive," Harry reassured her, leaning back a bit, perfectly content to gaze at the ceiling for a few moments.

Sure enough, the rest of Harry's friends promptly arrived. Ron led the group, his expression sombre as he approached his best mate. Neville and Luna followed him up, and Harry immediately noticed the two students holding hands. He could see the tenderness in their eyes as they looked at each other, and grinned, suppressing the urge to give a friendly laugh. Ginny took up the rear, a wave of relief and adoration flowing over her face when her brown eyes focused on the Champion. Her pouting lips curled up into a smile, and the shapely Gryffindor girl sat down beside Harry, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "Hello, Harry. So, what's up?"

It was Hermione who answered, the brilliant young witch bubbling with joy. "Harry thinks he knows how to stop Voldemort!"

A bomb being dropped in the Room of Requirement could not have produced more noise, as five excited voices exploded, chattering all at once, a rousing discourse of joy and interest. After a moment, Harry raised a hand for silence, gaining the attention of the group. "Yes, I think I know how, and it has to relate to the Prophecy."

"But the Prophecy was destroyed," Neville interrupted, looking highly confused. "It was shattered in the Department of Mysteries, I saw it myself."

"There must have been another copy of it somewhere," Hermione declared, brow furrowing in thought. "In the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort tried to get us to tell him the Prophecy, even though it had been ruined. Stands to reason that it still survived in some other form."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore kept a spare copy of it in his office. He showed it to me after Sirius died. It had been made _before_ the first copy had been placed in the Department of Mysteries, and so Dumbledore had complete access to it."

Ron snorted in disdain. "So we went through all that trouble, and fought all those Death Eaters and saw Sirius die, and Dumbledore had it all along?" he demanded indignantly, looking profoundly disgusted. "Well, what does it say?"

"I have to kill Voldemort. A given, even without the Prophecy telling me this, but nonetheless, it's going to come down to us in the end. Either him or me. If I win, then the world keeps on spinning for the next little while. If he wins…" Harry drifted off, leaving the prospect of defeat hanging like a dark cloud.

For what seemed like an eternity, no one spoke, the entire group stunned by this new revelation. Finally, Hermione spoke, her eyes becoming filled with tears. "Harry, that can't be right. It's not possible. How could-"

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._" Harry dictated, the words that bound his fate flowing off his tongue. "I have to kill him, Hermione. Voldemort marked me as his equal with this scar," he said, pointing to the lightning-bolt mark branded upon his forehead. "It established the mental link between us, thus forcing me to learn Occlumancy. My parents defied him three times before they died, and I was born near the end of July, the seventh month. I _have _to fight him, Hermione, I have no other choice. And even if I had, I would still fight him."

"You will always have a choice, Harry," Hermione whispered, clutching Ron's hand for support, her well-composed rebuttals shattered by Harry's fatalistic nature. "This Prophecy may be true, but you shouldn't let this war consume your whole life." At this point, the studious young Gryffindor broke down, sobbing into her boyfriend's shoulder. Ron leaned in to comfort her, and Harry joined in, rubbing her back with a gentle hand.

"Jesus, Harry," Ron said, holding Hermione close. "That's why You-Know-Who's been so fixed about getting the bloody thing. But I still don't understand about this power that the Dark Lord doesn't know about. What is it?"

"And how can you be sure it's you?" Neville asked, the normally shy boy filled with curiosity. "I mean, there must be others who could fill those requirements. Lots of boys are born in July, even some on your birthday."

Harry paused momentarily, taking his time to answer Neville's query. "The Prophecy states that Voldemort would mark me as his equal. You're right, Neville, there are many people who could potentially fit, but only the one whom Voldemort has marked as the power to kill him." He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice level and calm. "In fact, Dumbledore told me that you could have been the one in the Prophecy, the one to defeat Voldemort. Fortunately for you, Voldemort didn't mark you, so you are not burdened by what I must face." He became sullen, and a small voice in the back of his mind wished that Neville had been the one chosen by Voldemort. It was a stupid, selfish thought, and Harry pushed it aside, furious at himself for even considering such a prospect.

Neville blanched, and his lower lip trembled in fear. "You mean, I could have been the Boy-Who-Lived?" he asked, slumping down on his chair, head buried in his hands. "God, Harry, I think I understand what it's like to be you now. That big of a burden…" He trailed off and began to shake visibly. "I have no idea as to how you survive this. Merlin, the thought of being in your shoes makes me scared."

"All the more reason to support you, Harry," Luna said, speaking for the first time since the meeting began, her sea-green eyes shining in the firelight.

Ginny nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Luna's right. We've never abandoned you before, and we're not about to now. The six of us against Voldemort and hundreds of Death Eaters? Piss-poor odds for the little bastards."

Harry smiled, reassured by their words of comfort. Yes, they were the best of friends, completely indomitable and unfazed by the dangers of associating him. They stood by him with utter disregard for the consequences, and his heart felt light at this realization. The young Champion rose, moving to the other side of the room. "Now, onto your question, Ron. At first, I thought that the power was my mother's sacrifice, the protection that she gave me before she died. However, almost immediately after I went back to the Dursleys for last summer, Dumbledore called me back to Hogwarts. According to him, a second prophecy had been discovered, so he brought Cho and me to Hogwarts for some training. That's why I didn't see you guys all summer until right before term." The Champion triggered a hidden wall panel, the false stone front parting to reveal a rack of swords.

"Another one?" Hermione asked, now entirely engrossed in his tale. "What did this one say?"

With a dramatic flourish, Harry drew Runefang, the ancient blade light and agile in his hands. Hermione gasped in shock, and her eyes travelled down the flat of the weapon, witnessing the runes etched into the steel. Neville and Luna sat dumbstruck, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Ginny tentatively reached forward, brushing the cold steel like it was a holy relic. Although the entire group, save Luna, had seen the sword in one form or another at one point, the effect was still astonishing for the five students. Ron was the first to break the silence. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, Ron, it is the sword of Gryffindor. Runefang, as Dumbledore called it. The second Prophecy stated that I was Godric's blood descendant, and that a portion of his power had passed on to me. It is with this power that I will destroy Voldemort."

Hermione stared at the blade for a few seconds, then snapped out of her reverie. "Harry, tell us everything. _Everything_. Leave nothing out."

And so, wilting under Hermione's sharp gaze, Harry complied. He told them everything, the energies of Gryffindor, the true nature of his training with Cho, the exact wording of the Champions Prophecy, everything. It took them a moment to fully digest the meaning of this new discovery, but Hermione deciphered it in an instant. "Let's run through this, just so everyone understands. You are the descendant of Godric Gryffindor, and his energies still managed to survive after all these centuries through his bloodline. You spent the summer training under Stormfury in order to control these energies, as well as learn various duelling techniques. Cho is the Champion of Ravenclaw, while that Slytherin girl, Blaise, is Salazar's heir. And again, this prophecy states that you must kill Voldemort." Hermione plopped down on a cushion, wearied from her recitation. "Is that everything?"

Harry couldn't help but smile, adding, "Also, there's the fact that Voldemort has got himself an army larger than any Dark Lord since Slytherin. And he has the ability to summon daemons and undead to his side. That's about it."

"Blimey, Harry," Ron interjected, face ashen. "Why didn't you tell us before, mate?"

And that was the root of the issue. Harry swallowed nervously before continuing. "I kept this from you to keep you safe. Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to use you to get to me, and by keeping the Prophecies from you, he would have less reason to attack. I didn't want you to get hurt because of me. After Sirius and Cedric, I couldn't risk it."

"But _we_ are willing to risk it," Ginny declared, cupping his face in small hands. "Harry, you are our friend, and you can't fight this war alone. You are an amazing wizard and a good human being, but you can't possibly hope to defeat Voldemort all by yourself." Her voice drowned in emotion, and she began to cry, ever so softly. Harry gave her a gentle hug, well aware of the girl's previous attempts at seduction, but convinced of her genuine concern.

"She's right, you know," Neville added, pulling himself up to his full height, chest puffed out. "We knew what we were doing in the Department of Mysteries, and nothing has changed since then."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank you, everyone. I'm sorry for not telling you this earlier, but I know I can count on you."

Hermione smiled, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "It's no problem. We'll be with you as long as you need us."

Ginny looked up into Harry's eyes, a joyful smile on her lips. She leaned in, whispering honey words into his ear, the scent of vanilla filling his nostrils. "Especially me."

* * *

_Damn that mink. Damn her pox-ridded hide_, Michael Corner snarled inwardly, watching Cho from the fringes of his vision, drinking down some Butterbeer. The celebration was in full swing, the Ravenclaw Common Room packed with joyous students, the throng of merriment a stark contrast to the tidy sapphire décor of the room. The walls of Ravenclaw Tower were carved from sandstone and alabaster, while banners, tapestries and priceless silk hangings erected around the room, all bearing blue and bronze. Still, none of this registered on Corner's senses, the Head Boy utterly focused on a lone woman. Lounging on a royal-blue sofa, Cho Chang sat, unaware of the eyes that remained fixed on her curved body. Her raven-black hair fell down past her shoulders, shimmering hyponotically, and Michael unconsciously felt himself reaching out across the room, as if he could seize the silky smooth strands and hold them, if only for a moment…

Corner shook himself from his lust-induced vision, shaking his head angrily. _Damn her! Why must she be so stubborn?_ The beautiful Ravenclaw Seeker had declined the various offers to dance, including Michael's own. She could be enjoying herself along with the rest of the Quidditch team, enjoying their victory over Slytherin. Instead, she sat by her lonesome, waiting for that arrogant bastard Potter to arrive. She deserved better! She should be rejoicing her victory, not fretting over a stupid Gryffindor.

Ah, their victory. Slytherin was certain to be smarting after the complete trouncing that Ravenclaw gave them. Malfoy would be furious with him for playing against him in Quidditch, but the game was more important to Corner than his alliance with Draco. He couldn't exactly sabotage Ravenclaw's performance, nor did he wish to. They had beaten Slytherin fair and square, and Malfoy would have to accept that.

Not that Corner trusted the spoiled Slytherin any further than he could throw him. Michael and his fellow Ravenclaw conspirators had joined forces with the Slytherins out of mutual hatred for Potter, rather than concurring ideologies. If Malfoy could help him get his hands on Cho, then the Head Boy would help him to defeat Potter. Simple. Corner was smart enough to realize that Malfoy could put a knife in his back at any time, both figuratively and literally. Once the deal was complete, and Cho was a willing participant in his bed, Malfoy could go to hell for all he cared.

Michael cast his gaze back over to Cho's position, where Potter and the rest of his ragged company were present. A hot burst of jealously pounded at his temples as Potter and Cho kissed, and he ground his teeth, seeing the girl of his dreams walking hand in hand out the Tower with that attention-seeking prat. _Damn them. Damn them all._

His gaze lingered at Cho's rear, and hazel eyes travelled down the length of her shapely legs. She had bound him tighter than a fisherman's net, and barely a moment passed when her elegant face did not haunt his sight. Night after night, Michael went to sleep imagining the girl pleasuring him, and a wicked smile came to his lips. _I will have her, no matter what!_

Potter was going to die. Wither from a Death Eater's curse, Malfoy's plots, or a simple "accident," he was going to die. The stairs leading down from the Astronomy Tower were terrible at night. And then Cho would come crying to him, completely stricken with grief, her strong and independent nature crushed by her loss. A few comforting words, and she would be spreading her legs for him in minutes. Corner smiled at the thought. _You have no idea, do you, Potter? Your time is coming to an end. Enjoy what's left._


	21. The White Lotus

**A/N:** An important notice! This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature within the M/R rating. If you are offended by such situations, **do not read this chapter**. It's your choice to continue, so don't say you haven't been warned. Thanks!

**Chapter 21: The White Lotus**

Deep within the earth, Hell Pit was a hive of activity, the armies of the Dark Lord preparing for their next offensive against the wizarding world. From his private quarters, Voldemort looked down upon the new Death Eater recruits, a pack of criminals and petty hedge wizards, eager to fight for the promise of plunder. Vampires and werewolves filtered in, swearing allegiance to the Dark Mark, anxious to avenge centuries of shame and suffering. He paid no heed to these sights, however. Instead, Voldemort circled around his grovelling servant, speaking in a deadly hiss. "You have failed me, Asmodeus. Explain."

Asmodeus avoided facing the Dark Lord, the First Death Eater wearing his ever-present red mask. His body slumped forward, a product of extended application of the Cruciatus Curse, and he bowed repentantly. "Potter and his allies proved to be stronger than anticipated."

"I see," came Voldemort's deadpan response. "You had a full regiment of Death Eaters, Isolde with her vampire brood, and Ulric's Cabal. I gave you the Nagarythe, and the Lord Kharaidon sent his minions to aid us. Dumbledore's precious Order of the Phoenix would have fallen like rotten wheat under the fury of my armies. And yet, Potter survived. Why?"

"The boy's power has grown significantly," Asmodeus replied. His voice was deep and hollow due to the camouflage charms conjured upon him. The First Death Eater was one of Voldemort's strongest warriors, and not even the Inner Circle knew his actual identity. "He wielded a blade of considerable power, and employed the same magicks he used in Hogsmeade. According to the survivors, he was joined by two other students with similar weapons and abilities."

"The Champions," Voldemort mused aloud. His Legimency scan of Potter while the boy was wounded had been quite revealing, and the Dark Lord had seen all the boy's innermost secrets and desires. The Dark Lord had decades of experience and knowledge behind him, yet he had never heard of such a thing. The thought that there was a sphere of magic beyond him angered Riddle, as demonstrated by Asmodeus' curse-stricken form. "Tell me, my servant, what did I say would be the price of failure?" he asked, lazily aiming his wand at the kneeling Death Eater.

"My skin would be affixed to your throne, my Lord," Asmodeus replied, not a hint of fear in his voice. "If I would serve you better as upholstery rather than the commander of your armies, then I will accept such a fate."

Voldemort paused for a moment, considering his lieutenant's punishment. On one hand, the First Death Eater had failed him, and it would not be prudent to show mercy, as would weaken his image amongst the rank-and-file Death Eaters. Asmodeus had failed to kill Potter, an important objective and something that the Dark Lord had desired for nigh-seventeen years. He was tempted to kill him immediately and send his corpse over to his necromancers for experimentation.

However, Asmodeus had proven to be a valuable servitor in the past. He had directed the wave of attacks that left Hogsmeade and a dozen other communities smoking ruins. He had secured the _Liber Mortis_, allowing the Dark Lord to train a small coven of necromancers to aid him. First and foremost, however, was the fact that Voldemort had invested a great immense amount of resources training and grooming the young man into the greatest of his Death Eaters. Killing him would be a waste. The Dark Lord Voldemort did not care for the lives of his minions in any event. The Death Eaters were mere tools to him, some more valuable than others. The decision was made.

"I shall give you another chance, my servant," Voldemort uttered, not deigning to look at Asmodeus. "However, I will not be so lenient should you fail again. Lead my legions against the Wizarding world, and crush anyone who stands before my victory. Go."

Asmodeus bowed deeply, a maniacal glint in his eyes as he exited the throne room, heavy footfalls sounding on the granite floors. The First Death Eater gripped his long knives in a white-knuckle grip, as if anticipating the bloodshed to come. Voldemort watched him go from the corner of his eye, pleased that he had made the right decision. Asmodeus would re-double his efforts as to wipe away the shame of his defeat, and the Dark Lord's cause would be all the better off because of it. Keep his followers motivated and driven, and the Light would fall.

Voldemort stalked over to the chamber window, overlooking the Death Eater digging operation that dominated the majority of Hell Pit. Weary giants, unthinking undead and helpless Muggle slaves smashed rock and shifted earth, the already enormous underground cavern increasing in size over the course of a few months. A veritable forest of support beams and scaffolding grew tall, the magical-reinforced beams preventing any sort of cave-in. The Death Eater attacks against the Wizarding world were but a lone facet of the Dark Lord's convoluted schemes. The results of this excavation would determine the course of the war, not Asmodeus or his legions. A thousand Death Eaters could fall beneath the forces of the Light, and it wouldn't matter in the long run. The entire Inner Circle could be slaughtered by vengeful Shadow Hunters and Voldemort would remain unconcerned. If the Lord Kharaidon's directions were correct, then the Chaos Stones lay within the area, buried under countless tonnes of soil and rock. They were the key to Voldemort's victory, and Kharaidon's ascension.

During his transition from the boy Tom Riddle to Lord Voldemort, decades earlier, he had read of the daemons and the Dark Gods, the masters of the Realm of Chaos. He dismissed the possibility of the Ruinous Powers as mere superstition and religious nonsense, moving on to the more conventional Dark Arts. His opinion on the subject remained fixed and unchanging, until immediately after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

He had barricaded himself within Riddle Manor, brooding upon the failure of his minions when the whispers came. Even such a powerful Occlumens such as Lord Voldemort could not shut out the voices that assailed him. The whispers grew louder and louder, until a single dark voice spoke from the depths, its words entrancing him. Even now, months later, Riddle still remembered the Dark God's words, the disembodied deep tone that chilled his bones:

"_Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I am Kharaidon, greatest of the Eight, daemonlord of Chaos. I am the bringer of destruction that will set this world alight. Aid me, and I will grant your heart's desire. Bring death and ruin to this plane, and your wish will be fulfilled."_

Voldemort had seen the light. He had seen the dark realm that waited beyond mortal senses and witnessed the power of the Dark Gods of Chaos. He became a believer and swore his soul and service to the God of War, and the Death Eater attacks reflected it. Gone were the days where the Death Eaters attacked in pairs, striking in the depths of night, kidnapping and murdering Mudbloods one household at a time. Instead, the legions of Death Eaters fell upon the wizarding world in a dark tide, butchering any who opposed them. If wizards and witches had been afraid during the abductions and executions of the first rising, it was nothing compared to the sheer terror the public felt as hundreds of black-cloaked murderers slaughtered innocents like cattle, leaving behind only shattered hovels and flaming ruins in their wake. Not since the days of the Dark Lord Grindelwald had Dark wizards and their allies assembled in such great hosts, and Voldemort's own powers matched those of his predecessor.

Riddle shook himself from his reverie. Such thoughts were unproductive at best, and the Dark Lord needed to focus on other matters. His blood-red eyes travelled back to the excavation, and a twisted smile formed on his lipless mouth. _Soon, the Chaos Stones will be mine._

_They are the key_.

Voldemort began to chant softly, his incredible magical power stirring at his command. It invigorated his misshapen body, flooding his senses with energy. He rarely got a chance to face his enemies in personal combat anymore, out of concern more than any weakness. Perhaps that would change, in time.

For the Chaos Stones could give him the power to open the gates between this plane and the Realm of Chaos. He would grant the daemonic hordes passage to Earth and win the favour of Kharaidon, acquiring his dark energies for his own. His powers would dwarf Merlin himself, and he would ascend to the ranks of the gods. Perhaps he would even surpass them, and warp the very fabric of the universe to suit his desires. _Yes._

The Dark Lord's throne chamber exploded in a blast of warpfire, consuming stone and wood instantly, sending a plume of flame hurtling towards the ceiling. Work on the excavation ceased, and every eye turned to the ruins of Voldemort's private quarters. Several Death Eater regulars collapsed upon the cave floor, gibbering and convulsing insanely, the influx of Chaos energies warping their bodies and stripping them of their sanity. Voldemort looked beyond the suffering cretins, and addressed the bloodthirsty horde below him. "Go forth, and destroy!"

For the Reign of Voldemort was coming.

* * *

Two days after the intense Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match came the Yule Ball, and the entire student body breathed a bit easier as a result. Classes had finished for the year, much to Harry's relief, and preparations for the winter break were well underway. Students could be seen frolicking on the grounds or in the corridors, enjoying a few moments of peace and relaxation, just grateful that they would be free for the next two weeks. Numerous couples were caught snogging in the halls by a furious Filch, getting in a few moments together before they departed back to their families. Even the Slytherins seemed relatively cheerful, the shame of their loss against Ravenclaw drowned out by the Yuletide cheer engulfing the school.

For most of the older years, however, the Yule Ball was the highlight of a hectic week. As the afternoon sun waned, the various Common Rooms and dormitories were abuzz with excitement, dozens of students making final preparations for the big event. Hermione could be seen within Harry's dormitory, helping the young Champion and his mates get ready, her friendly demeanour calming them down and soothing most anxious nerves.

Elsewhere in the wizarding world, a temporary calm had descended as both sides licked their various wounds and prepared to escalate the conflict. Fudge, in a brazen wireless address, declared that "additional Aurors will be deployed to combat the threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The corrupt Minister also went on to say that "emergency legislation will be passed in the Wizengamot," citing public safety as its primary concern. While Harry was relieved that the Ministry was finally throwing its weight into the war effort, a lingering miasma of doubt remained. The Ministry was almost Machiavellian in its pursuit of power, and any security initiative undertaken by Fudge and his cronies would certainly benefit them. But, for the moment, Harry was content to let the matter rest. The Yule Ball was enough to occupy his attention for the time being.

Inside his dormitory, Harry buttoned up the collar of his forest-green dress robes, admiring himself in the mirror. Growing up under the often abusive roof of the Dursleys, his supposed worthlessness had been drilled into him each and every day. He had never seen himself as particularly attractive, although these feelings became driven more by humility than low self-esteem as time went on. Still, he had to admit that he looked good in these robes. A quick glance reminded him of Stormfury's battle robes, golden runic designs embroidered upon the soft fabric of the vest and cloak. They were comfortable, more like casual robes than formal wizarding attire. He took several deep breaths, trying to smooth his hair back. Unfortunately, his signature mop remained untameable, and he merely elected to go as is. "Everyone ready?" he asked, turning to his Gryffindor dorm-mates.

The response that greeted him was mixed at best. Dean and Seamus looked confident, the two friends shooting the breeze over their various dates. Ron was quite composed in his royal-blue garments, a shock considering his infatuation for Hermione. Harry half-expected the lanky Gryffindor to appear nervous, since this was his first date with Hermione, but his best friend showed no outward signs of concern. He shrugged, deciding to let the matter rest. Maybe Ron just hid it better, or maybe he was more mature than he realized.

Harry turned his attention to the last of the group, a lone boy sweating with fear, his rate of perspiration unrelated to the heavy Hufflepuff-yellow robes he wore. Neville Longbottom was a nervous wreck. He had never been the bravest or boldest man Harry knew, but he had shown his courage time and time again when the situation looked grim. Unfortunately, the daring Neville Longbottom that appeared in battle was conspicuously missing in time for the Ball, and Harry moved to calm the boy down. "Relax, Neville. It's going to be okay," he said, conjuring a pocket handkerchief with a quick flick of his wand and handing it to his friend.

"I'm going to screw up," the pudgy sixth-year gasped. "I just know it."

"No, you are not," Harry asserted, facing his friend with a sharp gaze. "Luna cares about you regardless of what happens tonight. She's not going to leave you if you make a mistake. Trust me, all of us are a bit nervous, but you can't beat yourself up, okay? Everything is going to turn out fine."

Neville shook his head, dabbing his brow with the handkerchief. "I'm trying not to, Harry, but I have this feeling that I'm going to screw this up."

Harry sighed, the bare beginnings of frustration creeping into his voice. "No, you are not," he repeated. "By the way, do you have what I asked for?"

"Sure thing!" Neville said, moving towards his bedside desk. Earlier in the week, Harry had approached the slightly clumsy boy and commissioned him to grow a flower for Cho. Neville's skills regarding Herbology were something of a local legend in Gryffindor House, and Professor Sprout has given him his own plot and extended access to the Greenhouse complex to work on his special projects. Harry had asked this favour for two reasons. First of all, he needed a present for Cho, and Neville had the skills and supplies with which to create such a gift. Just as important, however, was that it took Neville's mind off his fears. He seemed to calm down when dealing with his favourite subject, and he became much more focused and relaxed, both of which would help the boy considerably.

After a few moments of searching, Neville crowed in triumph, gingerly removing a single white bloom from a crystal vase. "Here you go, Harry. Hope Cho likes it."

Harry gently grabbed the flower by the stem, holding it up to the light for a better view. Neville had grown a perfect lotus blossom, small white petals emerging from the central stem, beautiful and delicate. Harry smiled, placing the flower within a second handkerchief with extreme care. "Neville Longbottom, you are a lying bastard. Saying that you're going to screw this up! If this is any indication," he declared, holding up the bloom, "then you'll have no trouble with Luna tonight."

Neville blushed, relieved, and Ron decided to join in, his voice light and friendly. "After all, Neville, you've lost your virginity in battle, fighting the Death Eaters. Maybe tonight, you'll lose it in bed!" he laughed, slapping him on the back.

"Or against the castle wall," Dean jibed, sending the entire dorm into fits of laughter. Even Neville joined in, his trepidation gone. Harry pocketed the lotus blossom, more than happy with his friend's work. _She'll love this_.

Finally, completely prepared, Harry and his dorm-mates went down to the Common Room, various trinkets and gifts in hand. Ron and Dean stood next to the staircase leading up to the girl's dormitories, awaiting the arrival of Hermione and Ginny, respectively. Seamus muttered something about Hannah Abbott before disappearing through the portrait hole. The Common Room was abuzz with activity, students flowing in and out like a sieve, girls wearing bright dresses and heavy makeup striding arm in arm with boys in formal wizarding robes. Nearly every student fourth-year and up seemed to be leaving the Tower for the Ball, or making some final touches to their outfits. "Well then, gentlemen," he said, turning to his buddies. "Neville and I had best get going. Two very lovely Ravenclaw ladies await, and we'd best not keep them. Right, Neville?"

Neville gave a timid smile. "Sure thing, Harry." Excusing himself, Neville raced back up to the dorms, and returned a minute later with an impromptu bouquet of marigolds in hand. "Think Luna will like them?"

A dreamy voice wafted up from the portrait hole, causing Neville to jump like a startled rabbit. "Oh, but I do," said Luna Lovegood, making her way over to the group. The fifth-year Ravenclaw was dressed in a faded purple gown, simple and unadorned, the only decoration being her signature orange earrings. Luna wasn't the most developed of girls, but Harry thought that she looked rather pretty, her wispy blonde hair falling loose onto her shoulders, blue-grey eyes filled with happiness. She accepted her boyfriend's gift with a sweet smile, giving him a peck on the cheek for his troubles. "This was very sweet of you, Neville," she whispered, kissing him again, accompanied to Dean's catcalls. "Hello, Harry Potter. Watch out for the Nargles tonight. There's mistletoe in every corridor, and you wouldn't want to get infected."

Harry smiled, despite himself. He didn't believe in most of Luna's ramblings, but it made no sense to hurt the girl's feelings. "Thank you, Luna. How is Cho doing?"

"She is waiting for you in Ravenclaw Tower," Luna replied, gently squeezing Neville's hand. A tremor passed over her, and her voice became filled with sorrow. "The most beautiful flower dies soonest; I'm afraid, withers and fades to nothing…" Then, just as abruptly, she regained her composure and continued speaking as if nothing of importance occurred. "She's quite exciting about the Ball, Harry. You should go to her."

The young Champion felt a cold trickle of fear move down his spine. Luna was prone to chatting on about any number of imaginary beasts or ludicrous topics, but her words were beginning to creep him out. The fact that she ignored the questioning glances of the boys and could not recall her words intensified the unnerving sensation that flooded his mind. He shoved the negative feelings from his mind. Nothing could happen tonight. The school was guarded by the Order and a crack squadron of Shadow Hunters, not to mention the Champions and Dumbledore himself.

Harry buried any misgivings, and turned back to Luna with a smile on his face. "Right then. I'll see you down in the Great Hall. Save a table for me and Cho, would you?" Nods replied in affirmation, and Harry made his way out of Gryffindor Tower and towards the woman he loved. He dismissed Luna's words and didn't give them another thought for the rest of the evening. At present, his mind was engaged in daydreaming about Cho, a sly grin plastered on his face as he walked through the corridors.

Clusters of students dressed in expensive robes and flowing gowns walked by Harry, many greeting the young Champion warmly, complimenting him upon his attire and wishing him luck tonight. The few Slytherins that passed him hissed under their breath, whispering darkly, although Harry paid little heed to the antics of the snakes. One figure in particular caught his eye, wandering aimlessly through the halls. Harry only had to glance at his threadbare robes before recognition dawned, and he gave a friendly laugh. "Lupin! How are you doing, you old hound?"

Lupin approached his former student with a trepid, nervous smile. The werewolf was wary of being seen in Hogwarts since Snape ousted him as such during Harry's third year. "Good to see you again, Harry. Looking rather dashing tonight, I must say. I assume that you're taking Cho to the Ball?"

"Of course," Harry replied, making small talk with the Order member. "I'm just on my way to meet up with her, actually. What are you up to, Lupin? I haven't seen you since Diagon Alley."

Lupin grinned, matching the boy's stride as he continued towards Ravenclaw Tower. "Dumbledore made me a Keeper of the Flame. It's a rank the group uses," he said, lowering his voice to prevent eavesdropping. Even within the heart of their resistance, the Order still prided secrecy, and even Dumbledore's revelation of the Prophecies to the teachers wouldn't change that. "In essence, I'm the local commander running things at Grimmauld Place. I don't really have anything else to do, so I accepted the job." He paused, staring at the Champion with the utmost of regret. "Albus told me about the two Prophecies, Harry. You deserved better than this, deserved better than to carry this burden around for the rest of your life…"

Harry raised a hand, forestalling any of Lupin's protestations. "Unfortunately, it can't be changed, Moony. Voldemort has caused far too much pain in this world, and someone has to stop him. Even without the Prophecies, I would be fighting him, and my life is a small price to pay for seeing him dead."

"Don't you dare say that," Lupin growled, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and spinning the boy around to face him. "Harry, there are people out there who love you and will follow you to whatever end. But promise me you won't do anything foolish. I know you want to fight Voldemort, but you can't take unnecessary risks in doing so. Just look at your girlfriend. She would be devastated if something were to happen to you, as would the entire Order."

The Champion suppressed his annoyance, disregarding Lupin's obvious attempt to make him feel guilty. Still, the old werewolf had a point. Only this past summer had Cho really move past Cedric's death, and the emotional bond that she shared with Harry far surpassed that of the fallen Hufflepuff. He'd hate to think what would happen to Cho if he died. Harry fixed Lupin with a serious glare, replying, "Alright, Lupin, I promise you that I won't take any stupid risks. However, if Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters show up, I will fight them as best as I am able. Hogwarts needs every fighter it can get its hands on, and I won't shirk from my responsibilities."

Lupin nodded, accepting Harry's conditions. "Fair enough. I know I can't stop you, Harry, especially considering how powerful you are now. Just keep in mind what I said."

Harry promised to, eager to move on to a different subject. "So, what are you doing here tonight? I thought that the Board of Governors had restricted you from setting foot on the grounds."

"They did," Lupin replied. "This visit is off the record. Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about recruiting the various werewolf groups to our side. After the Order fought them in the Forest, Dumbledore wanted to make sure that no lycanthrope would be in a position to harm the school. Naturally, he selected me to woo them over." He sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "It's a waste of time, I'm afraid."

"Voldemort must have already gotten to them."

Lupin nodded sagely, his face turning especially grim. "Every single attempt I made to bring my people into the fold has failed miserably. Werewolves today are second-class citizens thanks to Fudge and Umbridge. Jobs are closed off to them, the opportunity for higher education is denied, and they must reveal their lycanthrope status to the government and any potential employers. The Ministry whips the public into a rage against them, and most werewolves live in poverty, unable to provide for themselves. This creates tremendous rage and hatred amongst werewolves against the Ministry and the current system. When someone like Voldemort or Ulric comes along, they leap at the chance to serve them. After all, they have nothing to lose, and the thought of death is nothing compared to the prospect of revenge."

"Who's Ulric?" Harry inquired, letting Remus' words sink in. _The Ministry is creating more problems then it's solving. It's no wonder why Voldemort has gained so many allies._

"He's a terrorist," Lupin replied calmly. "Some might consider him a freedom fighter, but the former title is more accurate. Twenty years ago, he joined a group known as the Cabal, dedicated to securing werewolf rights by any means necessary. If our spies are correct, then Ulric has become the leader of the organization, and is working with Voldemort in hopes of destroying the Ministry." His stoic visage cracked, and the werewolf gave a great sigh, slumped over in apparent defeat. "Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever defeat him. Voldemort has so much power right now, we're stuck playing catch-up."

Harry frowned at his old teacher's despondency. "Don't give up just yet, Moony. Voldemort may be powerful, but he isn't unstoppable, and I will stop him, trust me."

"I hope you're right, pup," Lupin said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You just take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," Harry answered. "You too." Harry watched as Lupin gave a weary, unconvinced smile before disappearing down into a side-corridor, hunched over in an effort to hide his face from passing students.

As Lupin moved on, Harry sighed, feeling pity pull at his heartstrings. Lupin used to be a proud, focused individual, but the constant threat of war and the betrayal of his werewolf brethren had taken its toll. Slowly but surely, Voldemort's poison was infecting everything that he held dear, the sheer brutality of the conflict draining the spirit of the Wizarding world. Shaking his head, the boy pressed on towards his destination. He couldn't solve such problems at the moment, though he fully intended to. Maybe it was time to take up Dumbledore's offer of assistance and receive extra training from the Order and the Shadow Hunters. He'd need every trick at his disposal to defeat Voldemort, so it was a good place to start…

At last, he arrived at Ravenclaw Tower. The hallway was almost completely deserted, the bulk of the House having already made their way towards the Ball. Harry spent a few moments looking over his robes, making sure he was presentable. So fixated upon his own appearance, he didn't notice Cho exit from the Tower until her soft, sweet voice tickled his ears. "Harry?"

Harry gasped in surprise, his eyes devouring the sight that stood before him. Cho was absolutely breathtaking, a veritable goddess. Her curved frame was hugged by the red silkcheongsam she wore, the beautiful gown adhering to her upper body like a second skin, supporting her bodice while leaving her arms bare. Red lipstick coated her slightly pouting lips, a fiery change from her normal pink. The lower portion of the dress flared out and wrapped loosely around her long legs, and her feet were encased in dainty red slippers. Cho wore no jewellery, earringsor flashy cosmetics as per usual, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. She gave a little twirl, locks of raven-black hair falling out of her simple braid, held up by a pair of scented wooden sticks. "So, do you like it?"

"Beautiful," Harry blurted out, entranced by the vision of splendour that possessed him. "You're beautiful, Cho."

Cho reddened at his compliment, adding to the faint blush that suffused her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. Although, I must say, you look quite handsome yourself," she stated, her lovely brown eyes filled with mirth and delight. Hands flew over her mouth and she gave a tiny squeak as Harry revealed the lotus blossom, holding it at eye level. "Oh, Harry, it's beautiful!" she gushed, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you so much! It's so sweet of you!"

"Neville's the real hero," Harry replied, caressing her cheek softly. Slowly, he tucked the lotus flower behind the girl's ear and into her hair, tilting her chin up to face him. "I just asked him to get this for-"

Cho's lips brushed against his in a passionate kiss, and Harry decided to leave it be, returning the gesture. His shaking hands massaged her sides, causing the lovely Ravenclaw to moan in delight. He could feel her pert breasts pressed up against him through their respective robes, and that addictive lilac fragrance emanated from her silky ebony locks enticed him further. The kiss ended, and the two lovers broke apart, flushed and breathing heavily. "Thank you, Harry," Cho whispered, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. Moving to his side, she hooked her arm with his, eyes shining with ardour. "Now, be a dear and take your lovely girlfriend to the Ball."

"Sorry, I'm afraid I left Blaise downstairs," Harry joked, his face and tone deadpan. "You look presentable enough, you'll do."

"So that's how you've learned to kiss so well," Cho replied, playing along with her boyfriend. "I never knew you had a thing for Slytherins. Maybe that explains the green."

Harry smiled, grinning deviously. "Yes, Cho, you caught me. I've been sneaking into the Slytherin dormitories after hours and ravishing Blaise senseless. You'd be amazed what they teach those girls in the serpents. Maybe Blaise could give you some lessons."

Cho gave a sultry, seductive smile, her sweet warm breath tickling Harry's ear. "And what makes you think that I need any tutoring in that regard?" she whispered huskily, gently brushing her lips against his, pulling away before he could deepen the kiss. "Just kidding," she said, observing Harry's annoyed expression. "Thank you for being such a good sport about all this. I know that formal occasions are not your favourite thing in the world, especially since the last Yule Ball didn't exactly turn out for you…"

Harry looked down the hall, a smile on his lips. "It's no problem, Cho. I love you, and if suffering through a few dances is the greatest price I must pay while being with you, then I should be fine. Allow me to escort you to the Ball, O sweet maiden," he joked, Cho's giggles echoing through the deserted corridors. And with a final kiss, they were on their way.

* * *

The Great Hall was elaborately decorated for the Ball as Harry and Cho entered hand in hand, drawing jealous stares from many of the other couples present. A large dance floor had been constructed in the centre of the room, and small booths and tables lined the walls. Shimmering light reflected off a huge chandelier while soft music played out of nowhere. At the rear of the Great Hall, by the Head Table, stood a huge Christmas tree, easily a hundred feet tall. The Douglas fir was adorned with innumerable decorations, the greatest being a huge four-pointed star balanced precariously at its zenith. Dobby and the house elves had gone the extra mile in preparing the festivities. Bright lights bathed the chamber, and Harry could see several students already enjoying roast turkey and heaps of mashed potatoes.

"Hey, Harry, over here!" Ron's booming voice cut through the buzz of conversation. Harry looked right to see Ron waving forcefully, gesturing the pair over to their table. The red-haired boy smiled, glancing over at Cho. "We saved a seat for you and the lady, mate. Sit down, take a load off. Dinner's just begun!"

"Oh, Cho, you look great!" Hermione squealed, giving the Asian girl a friendly embrace. "And Harry! My, my, you definitely clean up nicely, don't you?"

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry replied, taking a seat beside Cho as he cast his eyes over Hermione's sky-blue gown. "You're looking really nice yourself. And I see Neville and Luna have joined us tonight." The pair in question blushed, holding hands tightly. Further conversation was forestalled as dinner began conjuring in front of them, summoned by the castle's magic. Harry and company tucked in, indulging themselves in an evening of feasting and laughter. The six chatted amongst themselves, discussing every topic from Quidditch to school to future careers. The only thing absent was the war, and for which Harry was glad. For the space of an evening, he was free to relax and enjoy life without the omnipresent shadow of Voldemort hovering over him, and he intended to make the most of it.

Talk inevitably turned to the Christmas break, and discussion reigned over their intended plans and destinations. Neville and Luna were heading back to London to spend time with their respective families. Harry got the impression that Neville wanted to visit his parents in St. Mungo's, but didn't reveal it to the group. Cho elected to stay at Hogwarts, as she had no particular desire to see her parents, or to leave Harry. At school, the beautiful Ravenclaw had some level of independence that was absent at home, something she cherished immensely. Ron would return to the Burrow along with Ginny and Hermione, reunited with his family, no doubt relieved that their children were safe. "Why don't you come and stay with us, Harry?" the Weasley boy asked, throwing a questioning look at his friend. "It's no trouble at all. Percy's still gone, so we'll have room. And, besides, Mum's been worried sick about you with Hogsmeade and whatnot."

It was a generous offer, and coming from his best friend, all the harder for Harry to decline. "Sorry, Ron, I'm planning on staying here over the break. It's not that I don't want to stay at the Burrow; nothing could be farther from the truth! It's just that I have some things to look after here, training and whatnot. Sorry."

"So, you're ditching me for Cho?" Ron asked jokingly, putting on a hurt expression. "No, it's okay, mate. Mum might not be too happy, but she'll understand."

"Make sure to relax, okay?" Hermione reminded him, her brown eyes filled with worry. "You've been working really hard lately, fighting against the Death Eaters, and you can't let the stress get to you. We'll be sure to owl you and make sure you're alright."

Harry nodded, grateful for their support. Truth be told, while Harry was planning on committing some extra time for training, Cho was his primary motivation for staying. He didn't want to leave her alone and lonely over the break. Besides, he got to spend time with Cho Chang, and what could possibly be wrong with that?

The young Gryffindor felt Cho nudge his side. "Don't look now, but Malfoy's coming to visit."

"Lousy git," Ron muttered darkly. "Can't we go a few days at least without listening to this creep threaten us?"

"Don't let him get under your skin, Ron," Hermione said, trying to soothe his temper. "It's nothing we haven't heard before anyway."

Harry could barely keep his contempt in check as Malfoy sauntered up to the group in jet-black robes, his trademark smirk plastered all over his face and a cadre of Slytherins escorting him. On his left arm hung Pansy Parkinson, the pug-faced girl dressed in positively gaudy and flamboyant pink robes, while by his right arm stood Blaise. Harry gasped in surprise upon seeing the Champion of Slytherin consorting with Malfoy and his cronies, but kept his shock hidden. The blue-eyed spy wore a strapless green satin gown suspended by a tight corset, leaving her shoulders and arms bare while exposing a generous amount of cleavage. Her golden blonde hair formed an exotic braid, while ruby-red lips curled back in a haughty sneer worthy of a noblewoman. From the look in her deep blue eyes, it was apparent that Blaise had no interest in being there, and her gaze filled with remorse as she glanced at Harry. All in all, she was quite a sight, and Harry forced himself to look away from her busty orbs, her modesty only covered with constant attention to the neckline of the dress.

"Hello again, Potter," Malfoy drawled, leering unpleasantly at Cho. "My my, Chang, you've grown quite pretty. I've never fucked a foreign girl before, but you'd be quite a treat."

"You watch your mouth," Harry growled menacingly, drawing his wand in one smooth motion, gripping the wooden instrument tightly at his side. "One more word, Malfoy, and I swear I'll hex you in places that'll make you useless to a woman."

Cho gave an amused laugh. "There's no need for that, Harry," she said, watching the Slytherin's face turn red as she mocked him. "I have it on good authority that little Draco can't get it up under the best of circumstances, so don't waste your breath."

Harry and company laughed uproariously at Cho's jest, enraging Malfoy further. "Shut up, you stupid chink! Shut up! I come from the purest of the pureblood lines, while you're just some dirty little immigrant who walked off the boat one day. You're not even fit to lick my shoes, whore."

The Ravenclaw beauty sighed at Malfoy's pathetic insults. "You're only pure because your family has this disgusting habit of marrying their own cousins. Hear that, Pansy? In more civilized societies, you and Malfoy would be considered incestuous, but it's standard operating procedure for English purebloods. I might not be noble and Anglo-Saxon like you, Malfoy, but at least I don't have to marry my blood relatives in order to get a girl."

"You'll pay, you stupid slut," Malfoy hissed. "You and your family are going to pay for standing up to the Dark Lord. And w-"

Ron snorted disdainfully, getting out of his chair. "We've heard this bullocks before, Malfoy. Now, clear off before I give you more than a bloody nose," he threatened, raising a clenched fist as if to prove his point.

Surprising, instead of backing away, Malfoy began to chuckle insanely, his demented laughter unnerving for anyone in the vicinity. "The Dark Lord is coming, Potter. You can't imagine the weapons he wields! And when he comes, I'm going to have a lot of fun with your Asian whore here. Oh yes, day in, day out, I'll be ploughing her every way I can imagine. The Weaslette too. And Loony over there. And you too, Mudblood. The men will die and the girls will pleasure me. And, Potter, I make sure the Dark Lord leaves you for me to kill. You've stood in my way for too long, and you'll pay Potter, you'll pay!"

Ron and Neville immediately drew their wands, but Harry waved them back. The familiar and energizing sensation of the energies of Gryffindor flared once more, and the young Champion felt its seductive whispers in the back of his mind. Taking a few deep breaths to clear his mind, Harry declined the offer, forcing the power down. He had another idea, some hidden inner demon urging him to give Malfoy a warning he wouldn't soon forget…

"Do you know what happened to your father, Malfoy?" he asked in a deadly voice, causing the spoiled Slytherin to freeze in terror. "He died after making the same comments about Cho that you did. That's right, Malfoy. Your father was a low-life bastard, just like you and the rest of Voldemort's stooges. That's right, I said his name! It's a wonder why Voldemort has even gotten this powerful, seeing all the worthless minions he has…"

"Shut up!" Malfoy screamed, drawing no few stares from the student body. "Damn you, Pott-"

"I'm not finished yet. Your father made one big mistake, Malfoy. He tried to hurt Cho, and I cannot stand by and watch that happen. You want to threaten us? Here's a threat for you. You try and hurt any of my friends, you even look at them the wrong way, and I'll come for you. Don't think that hiding in the Common Room can save you either, I'll find a way in. And trust me, like your father, it won't be pretty and it won't be quick. Like all bullies, Lucius was a coward, begging for mercy after he tried to hurt Cho. Is that a yellow stain in your britches, Malfoy? Guess it runs in the family." Harry paused, letting the full impact of his words sink in. He leaned in towards Malfoy's ear, speaking in a lethal whisper, "_I killed him._ And trust me, if you or any of your waterboys bear the Mark, I'll treat you no different than the Death Eaters. Got it?"

For what seemed like the longest amount of time, Malfoy stood stock-still, sheer and unadulterated fear in his eyes. Like a switch was flipped, the Death Eater wannabe bolted for the opposite end of the Great Hall, his followers in tow. Pansy tried to console him, while Blaise was forcefully dragged along by the humiliated Slytherin. Harry grinned as the blue-eyed Champion winked at him and Cho, her eyes filled with glee and delight at seeing the hated pureblood defeated. _Good luck, Blaise_, he thought, glancing at her retreating form, slightly worried for the beautiful Muggleborn. No doubt she had tagged along with Malfoy in order to uncover his secrets, as per her forte, but Harry still felt lingering concern. _Snap out of it, Harry. Blaise went through the same training as you did, she can handle anything Malfoy can throw at her._

"Nice work, Harry," Ron congratulated him. "But what was all that about, with Lucius Malfoy?"

"That's a story for another day," Harry replied, not eager to explain how he blew Malfoy to pieces at this particular time.

Dinner concluded as the lights dimmed, inciting surprised gasps from many of the girls. The music became more palpable, while several dozen fairies chattered and squeaked as they buzzed around the room, releasing a trail of glowing dust in their wake. Couples began streaming out onto the dance floor, and Harry felt Cho's soft hand grasp his. "Dance with me, Harry," she said, leading him along, her body swaying in time to the slow rhythm of the music. "Just remember what I taught you. Relax, enjoy yourself. It'll be fine."

His knees shaking nervously beneath him, Harry complied, one hand locked with hers while the other placed at her side, the girl's flesh soft and warm beneath her fitting robes. Harry did his best to follow along, his movements clumsy at first but gaining grace and sleekness as time past. Occasionally, a squeak of pain indicated that he had trod on Cho's feet, much to his chagrin. He was certain that he wasn't the most skilled dancer at best, or a complete idiot at worst, but it seemed that the Ravenclaw beauty didn't mind at all. "You're doing great," she encouraged him, her eyes bright with happiness and ardour.

"It's all because to you," Harry whispered, kissing her cheek as he held the girl close. "Thank you for everything, Cho. I would probably be a half-dead wreck if not for you and your kindness."

Cho blushed, her full pink lips curving up into a smile. "That's really sweet of you, Harry, but it was no problem at all. I benefit from these things as much as you, and if you're happy, then I'm happy." The Ravenclaw's expression was lively and joyous, and once again Harry found himself wondering what he had done to win her affections. _She's lovely,_ he thought, his eyes travelling down her body, tracing a path down the curve of her bosom, her womanly hips, the smooth long legs he imagined behind the skirt of her dress…Harry snapped out of his daydreams as he realized that he had been ogling the beautiful Ravenclaw. Cho blushed with embarrassment, but that lovely smile of hers remained.

The dance ended, and Cho curtsied to her lover, chocolate-brown eyes reflecting both mirth and desire. "Thank you for the lovely dance, Harry."

"No problem," Harry replied, kissing her softly. "Anytime." He felt carefree at that moment, almost euphoric, like nothing could cause him harm. Breathing a contented sigh, Harry proceeded to let his mind wander and relax for the time being.

The Ball continued late into the night, during which Harry spent most of his time dancing with Cho, or lounging at their table, chatting and joking with his friends. Harry also found himself commandeered by several other girls, much to Cho's annoyance, as well as his own. Besides friendly and enjoyable dances with Hermione and Luna, the young Champion spent time in the arms of Lavender Brown and a smattering of other Gryffindors, the former brushing her body suggestively against his in a pulse-pounding Eurobeat mix. He was incredibly grateful once that torture session was over, and rushed back to his table. "What's so funny?" he asked, his gaze falling upon Cho as she tried to stifle a laugh. "Trust me, Cho, having Lavender Brown rub her arse against you is not funny."

"Having fun, Harry?" she teased, hooking an arm around his waist. "Pay no attention to those girls, they just want the satisfaction of being seen with you. Speaking of which, I haven't really seen Ginny around lately."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry answered, stroking his chin in thought. He hadn't really seen much of the Weasley girl since their meeting within the Room of Requirement several days earlier, and her attempts at seduction at all but ceased. Maybe the revelation of Harry's fate had brought the girl to her senses, but Harry couldn't see that occurring, unfortunately. He wanted Ginny as a friend, and hopefully, she would move past her obsession and accept Harry and Cho's relationship. "She's probably fine," he reassured the Chinese Ravenclaw, somewhat surprised by the lack of malice in Cho's voice as she discussed her rival.

"I hope so," Cho mused, leaning onto Harry's shoulder, the pleasant warmth of her body quite comforting. "Honestly, I just want to end all this fighting between us, we have more important things to do than bicker with Ginny Weasley. She's a decent-powered witch, and most importantly, one of your friends. I'd much rather have her on our side then keep fighting with her."

Harry was confused by her statement, and echoed such. "I thought you couldn't stand Ginny?"

Cho gave a slight shrug. "I can understand her motivations. She really cares about you, Harry, and wants only to see you happy and safe. I truly don't think she intends to hurt you, but she's so overzealous that she ends up hurting everyone in her way. I don't hate her at all, I pity her."

Harry smiled, caressing Cho's cheek with a gentle palm. It amazed him that she could find some level of understanding between herself and a girl who utterly despised her. He leaned in and kissed her softly, tasting the usual strawberries despite the change in lipstick. "You're really amazing, you know that, right?" he asked, causing the Ravenclaw girl to blush furiously. "Most girls would be at Ginny's throat by this point, and you want to bring her into the fold."

"Reconciliation is always more preferable to violence, and I'm not going to waste my talents on that little wench," Cho responded, giving a perfect smile. "How about we head out for a bit? It's getting a bit too noisy in here."

Harry and Cho exited the Great Hall under cover of a raging hip-hop tune, squeezing past a field of dancing bodies before arriving in the relative calm of the Entrance Hall. Harry caught a glimpse of Neville and Luna cuddling in a deserted corridor before they were swallowed by the crowd. The two lovers took a stroll through the halls, content to experience each other's company, watching a light snowfall descend on the already blanketed grounds. It was warm enough in the castle that neither was forced to wear a heavy cloak, and no bitter north wind came to assail them through the open windows. Harry held her close as they neared Ravenclaw Tower, admiring how the light of the crescent moon shimmered in her raven-black hair. "You're especially beautiful tonight, Cho," he whispered into her ear, letting the sweet lilac aroma flood his senses. "I hope you had fun."

"I did, very much," Cho replied, avoiding his gaze, slightly in awe of the young Gryffindor. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me, Harry, and I fear I will never be able to fully repay you."

"You don't need to," Harry affirmed, gently tilting her chin up. "Cho, I love you more than anything in the world, and I am willing to pay any price to keep you safe and happy. You saved me from myself, when I was at my lowest. Cho, I-"

Cho placed a finger over his lips, hushing him. "Look up, Harry," she whispered, eyes filling with tears of happiness. "Look up."

Harry chuckled as he saw the sprig of mistletoe suspended from the ceiling, remembering their first kiss in the Room of Requirement. "Let's just hope this one is better," he quipped, brushing the lotus blossom with a free hand, all the while leaning in towards her.

The kiss was explosive in its intensity, their lips devouring each other with desperate urgency. Harry ran his hands through her hair, twisting the silky black strands into tiny curls, moaning in pleasure. Cho's lips were as soft and perfect as always, and Harry drank in the strawberry taste, holding the girl close with strong arms. "I love you, Cho…"

Cho responded by kissing him harder, uttering aroused little moans. Dexterous fingers massaged Harry's back, stimulating his pressure points and arousing him even further. Her legs turned to jelly in the face of their demanding kisses, and her mind began to lose focus as the young Gryffindor trailed butterfly kisses down the curve of her neck. "Harry, my _bau-bei_. Stay with me."

Cho whimpered with desire as Harry gently caressed her breasts, the rounded orbs pressed up against his body, soft to the touch. Harry's worn and calloused hands travelled down to her inner thigh, slowly rubbing through the silk fabric of her dress, causing the girl to throw her head back and gasp. Reason came back with a vengeance, and Cho paused her sensual ministrations, realizing their predicament. "Harry, wait, please stop…"

Harry froze instantly, his mind awhirl with self-condemnation. "I'm sorry, Cho. I'm pushing you, aren't I? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Harry, that's not it at all," Cho said, trying to reassure her often over-protective lover. "Just not here, not in public, okay? Trust me, I'm feeling exactly the same things that you are. I want it too."

"Really?" Harry squeaked, surprised by her response. His collar seemed to tighten around his throat, and he swallowed nervously despite himself. God, he wanted her, but he didn't want to hurt her, but he needed her, but he was scared for her, but he couldn't deny it a moment longer…His mind whirled with conflicting arguments, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, stroking her cheek with a shaky hand.

"I'm certain, my _bau-bei_," Cho answered, her eyes burning bright with equal parts lust and affection. At her command, the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower split open, and the Ravenclaw beauty turned towards the Common Room and her dormitory. "Only you can make me complete, Harry, and I would never forsake you for any other. Don't be afraid."

Somehow, those three simple words lifted the haze of insecurity from Harry's mind. He needed her with the obsessive desire of a madman, and she wanted him to the same degree. There was nothing more to discuss, nothing more to impend their love, no barrier to give them pause. He gripped her shoulders firmly, leading Cho into the Ravenclaw Common Room, ignoring the blue-and-bronze decor as he stared, fixated, at the beautiful Chinese girl. "Thank you," he whispered huskily, bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss.

This time around, the kiss was gentler, more tender, with neither of the two lovers in any hurry, just enjoying the moment of passion. Eventually Harry began to escalate their coupling, deepening the kiss while running his hands along Cho's lithe body. She in turn moaned in pleasure, responding to his caresses, unclasping the front of his collar and letting his robes fall to the floor. The next few minutes were spent kissing and touching, with Harry exploring every part of her body, his hands tracing layers of silk and feeling the warm flesh beneath.

Several minutes later, Harry and Cho lay on the beautiful Ravenclaw's bed, kissing and fondling each other ravenously. Lost in the delirium of their passion, Harry hadn't the foggiest idea how they got there, but he was in no position to question or complain. The mattress was soft as feather down, and Cho's soothing presence only made things better. "Cho," he whimpered as the girl steadily worked her magic on his nerve endings, both arousing and relaxing him. "Where did you learn to give massages like that?"

Cho didn't answer, instead reaching behind her back. With exaggerated slowness, she unzipped the dress, the red silk falling away from her upper body, revealing her shapely form. Harry's eyes nearly bulged out his head, a lustful shine descending over his vision as he stared at her naked bosom. Her breasts were perfect, not huge and overblown like the models of a Muggle magazine, nor small and underdeveloped. Her curves were in perfect proportion to the rest of her body, and Harry felt his arousal grow at the sight of them. "Beautiful," he muttered, dumbstruck at her loveliness. "Absolutely beautiful."

The Chinese girl gave a sweet, bashful smile, and Harry kissed her forcefully, almost crushing his lips onto hers. As Cho worked to remove his belt, he began to lay a trail of kisses down her neck and onto her breasts, tasting her exotic flavour as he kissed the soft orbs, glistening with sweat. Cho arched her back in pleasure, finally undoing his pants and outer robes before letting her hair down, ebony curls descending down to the small of her back. "So are you, Harry." She let loose a passionate, thrilling cry as Harry's oral ministrations intensified. "Harry…"

Gently, Harry laid her down on the bed, clutching the silken dress and, ever-so-gently, tugged it off her body, exposing more of her gorgeous frame as it slid down her long legs. The young Gryffindor drew in a deep breath upon seeing Cho Chang lying almost completely nude before him, clad in only a flimsy pair of knickers. She was an angel, her golden-brown skin like cream, her legs long and shapely, her raven-black hair splayed on the royal blue pillow. Taunt muscles stretched across her lithe frame, product of Quidditch and their training, testimony to her skill in battle. The white lotus blossom stood out in stark contrast to her midnight locks, and Harry's blood thundered in his veins. "I'll stop if you want to, Cho," he uttered, his affection for Cho overriding his ardour, at least momentarily.

"Keep going, Harry," the Ravenclaw beauty replied, quickly unbuttoning Harry's shirt, leaving the young Gryffindor as bare as she. "I'm alright."

Finally, their final articles of clothing disappeared, and the two Champions were left clutching each other nude in the dark, their nerve endings alight with excitement, shadow and light weaving strange patterns across their skin. Cho drew the curtains of her four-poster bed to shield them from peeping eyes, before casting a few vital charms to avoid any unwanted complications. "I'm ready," she said, kissing her lover passionately. "Go ahead."

Harry bit his lip, brushing the hair from her eyes with a wavering touch. He didn't want to hurt her, but she was ready, and he wasn't going to waste another moment denying the temptation. Slowly, with great care, he entered her, watching with concern as Cho's porcelain features contorted with pain. "It's okay, I'm alright," she reassured him, relaxing after a few moments. "Make love to me, Harry," came her whisper, pleading and lustful. "Make love to me."

Their hips began to thrust in time, and Harry nearly lost control then and there, seeing Cho's beautiful eyes drowning in the torrid sensation. The feelingwas incredible, unlike anything that Harry had ever felt before. Her nude body writhed and twisted in his arms, the touch of her creamy skin against him driving the young Champion even further. Her scent drove him utterly wild, and her lips were liquid fire, so filled of ecstasy and undying restraint that Harry lost control, kissing her ferociously as their lovemaking continued. The Ravenclaw beauty moaned, then screamed his name in passion, and Harry heard himself answer her call. The universe faded from his sight, and all that was left was her. She was his world, his existence, and beyond the pulse of their coupling was only void. His senses drowned in Cho, her cries of pleasure, the taste of her lips, the sight of her angelic body. The energies of the Founders exploded into a vibrant aurora of colour, dancing above them peacefully, red and blue fire intertwining along with the two lovers.

Time passed, how long Harry couldn't tell. Finally, they climaxed, arching their backs in ecstasy as they let loose an earth-trembling cry and collapsed upon one another, completely exhausted.

When it was over, Harry slumped down beside his beautiful lover, wrapping his arms around her protectively. He looked into Cho's lovely chocolate-brown eyes, seeing only bliss and euphoria reflected within, a contented smile upon her scarlet lips. He leaned down and kissed her briefly, then drew the sheets up around their bodies.

"Do not wake me," Cho whispered, her voice sweet as honey, turning so they were face to face, holding him by the waist. "For I am in the midst of the most wonderful dream." She buried her head in the crook of his neck before drifting off, holding him as if she never wanted to let him go.

Harry smiled weakly, kissing the top of her head. He remembered threading a hand through her silky black curls before letting himself rest, his dreams liberated by nightmares or visions, the warmth of Cho's luxuriously soft body lulling him to sleep.


	22. A Need for Monsters

**A/N:** Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from the publication of this story.

**Chapter 22: A Need for Monsters**

Slowly, Harry awoke, green eyes peering around at his surroundings. Blue cotton and silk sheets wrapped around body, and the bed beneath him was soft and wide, fit more for nobility than students. Silken curtains encircled the four-poster bed, blue light filtering through and dancing upon his skin. Harry instinctively reached over the bedside table, searching for his glasses. He paused, realizing that the coke-bottle lenses were perched precariously on his forehead, moved during the night. He smiled, remembering the experience of making love to Cho. It was everything he had imagined and yet far more. It had been an almost divine sensation; every nerve ending pulsing with fire and his mind racing with energy. How could anything so beautiful and so pure be considered evil or sinful by anyone?

Harry let his gaze fall over the still-resting Cho, the Ravenclaw beauty nestled against his body, her nude, sensual frame stretched out over the bed sheets. Harry couldn't help but trace her curves with a gentle touch, causing the girl to moan in her sleep, perfect crimson lips turned up in a small smile. The white lotus blossom remained in her hair, and the young Champion smiled, slowly running a hand down her back. His heart ached at the sight of Cho, and he shuddered at the touch of her naked skin. "Cho," he whispered huskily, trying to rouse his sleeping companion.

Cho's almond eyes opened, so full of warmth and emotion that Harry couldn't look away, ensnared by their chocolate depths. "Hello there," she whispered, placing a light kiss upon his lips. Sighing deeply, she rested lightly upon his chest, peering up into his eyes. "I want to wake up like this every morning," she declared in a dreamy voice, drawing the sheets tighter around them.

"Agreed," Harry answered, holding Cho against him. Her skin was smooth and creamy beneath his fingertips, and he gently stroked her back and rear, inciting whimpers of pleasure from the young woman. "However, I don't think that your dorm-mates would appreciate seeing us together, as we might make them jealous."

Cho's scarlet lips curled up into a smile. "Bugger them, Harry. What we have is special, and let's not have a few jealous shrews ruin it. Besides, they might get to see what they're missing," she quipped seductively. Her eyes were alight with energy, and Cho seemed almost rejuvenated, a healthy glow in her skin. "It was wonderful, Harry. Divine."

"And so were you," Harry replied, tilting her chin up to face him. "Cho, what you gave me last night was special. I don't think I'll be able to repay you, even if I live a thousand years."

Cho kissed him, cool fingers caressing his scar. "Harry, I didn't make love to you expecting payment. I love you deeply, Harry, and I know you feel the same. It was a gift, and one that I would give to you again if I had the opportunity."

"I know, Cho," Harry replied, stroking her cheek. "It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me." He cursed himself silently at his forwardness, and a dark blush crept over his features. He relaxed as Cho smiled, leaning in close, her eyes glittering with happiness. "It was beyond amazing," he whispered, his breath tickling the Chinese girl's bare skin.

"I'm glad to hear it," Cho said, kissing him softly and holding him close, her fingertips dancing a feather-light path down his vertebrae. She began to massage Harry's already relaxed muscles while kissing and sucking his lower lip, her ministrations as soft and gentle as they were the previous night. Harry moaned, letting the sensation wash over him, giving in to her arousing touch. He closed his eyes as Cho worked her magic, her naked breasts pressing against him, long legs sliding against his. "I love you, Harry," his angel whispered, kissing him one last time. "Now, you should get dressed. It's nearly time for breakfast."

"Bugger breakfast," Harry answered, curling a lock of silky raven-black hair around his finger. "I just want to lie in bed with you forever."

Cho gave a musical laugh, causing Harry's heart to leap with glee. "As much as I'd love to, Harry, my stomach has other plans. Besides, you should go see Ron and Hermione off before they leave on the train." She slid across the sheets, opening the curtains and permitting the sun to shine upon her flawless form. "Now, come on and get dressed, I'll transfigure some clothes for you so you can get back to your dorm. Don't look so disappointed, Harry, we'll have all day to relax and enjoy ourselves."

"Well, if you put it that way," Harry said, catching her subtle innuendo, dragging himself out of the warm bed somewhat unenthusiastically. He stood next to Cho, gripping her shoulders gently as he kissed her, watching her eyes glow warm with ardour. "I love you, Cho."

"As do I, Harry," Cho responded, pecking him on the lips. "Now, we should get ready. The showers are just through that door." With a brief, contented smile, Cho disappeared into the showers, leaving Harry alone in the brightly decorated Ravenclaw dormitory.

Harry began to laugh gleefully, flopping back down upon the bed, inhaling the scent of their respective arousal staining the sheets. He grinned from ear to ear, his hearty chuckles echoing throughout the stone residence. _Merlin, that was amazing_, he thought, letting the visions of their lovemaking fill his mind. The experience was beyond anything that Harry had anticipated, and nothing could have prepared him for that night of ecstasy, of passion. Earlier in the school year, Seamus had been involved in a brief, purely sexual fling with Lavender Brown, and the Gryffindor boys had spent sleepless nights listening to tales of the Irish boy's conquest. None of his stories could hold a candle to what he experienced, and the other girls in Hogwarts were mere Knockturn Alley streetwalkers compared to the divine Cho.

"Cho," he whispered, letting the word float upon air like a feather. _The gods themselves could not have borne a more beautiful name!_ Sighing wearily, Harry propped himself up on the mattress, trying to find the necessary motivation to get up. _Cho's right. I probably should see Ron and Hermione before they go. After all, I didn't come back to Gryffindor Tower last night, so I should check in at the very least._ A quick check of the clock informed him that it was nearly 9 o'clock, on Christmas Eve. _Damn. Better move quickly if I'm going to catch up with them._

A brief, but refreshing, shower later, Harry dressed with all haste, discovering a simple pair of training pants and a t-shirt Cho had prepared. His gaze fell upon the beautiful silk dress Cho had worn last night, cast on the dormitory floor as if it were no more valuable than a burlap sack. Gently, Harry picked up the exquisite garment, lightly dusting it off before draping it over the back of a chair, his cutting green eyes examining the elegant design. He couldn't help but smile and wonder if she had any more clothes like this, a mischievous grin appearing on his lips.

Without warning, the pain struck like an icepick to the temple, the force sending him to his knees. Harry suppressed a scream as his scar burned, a thin dribble of black blood rolling down his forehead. He fought to keep the ever-growing intrusion out, the terror welling up within. _Not now!_ he silently screamed, clenching his fists until the fingernails drew blood. Deep within the recesses of his brain, a drum sounded, pounding inside his skull, increasing the agony fivefold. His vision swam and faded before him, and Harry forced himself to resist, to stay conscious.

A moment longer and he would have been overwhelmed. Instinct saved him, and Harry found himself using his Occlumency without realizing it, Avalon's teachings coming into play nigh automatically. His breathing slowed and a mantra formed on demand, calming the young Champion down. _I love Cho_, he thought, over and over again. The pain faded, but a dark cloud muddled his thoughts, leaving him groggy and confused. Dimly, he could hear Cho's voice in the background, calming him and encouraging him to keep fighting, before another wave of pain struck, battering his mental defences. Images and thoughts filtered into Harry's mind, and the boy could only experience them as he struggled to keep his shields from collapsing completely…

…_Screams of agony filled his ears, and a pale, blond woman lay sweating and exhausted on a threadbare cot, the sheets bathed in fluid and sweat. She reached towards him with a weak hand, before her head rolled limply, dying eyes staring at the child she would never truly know…_

…_A young Tom Riddle stood before Dumbledore, his clothes threadbare, a deep hunger in his eyes. The boy who would become the greatest of the Dark Lords described his life in the orphanage, especially the cave that he and his friends played within…_

…_Another vision. Harry stared at a red-masked Death Eater, the man's frame exerting a kind of bestial power and fury that he couldn't help but be proud of. Or could he? Nothing made sense anymore._

"_Well done, Asmodeus," Harry said, his lipless mouth twisting into a malevolent sneer. Clammy, scaled hands stroked the head of Nagini as she slithered at his feet, his constant companion. "The home of my father will serve you well in your undertaking. Raze the village and ensure nothing survives." What was he feeling right now? Anger? Glee? Horror? His head hurt. Why am I so confused?_

"_I shall redeem myself, my Lord," the Death Eater replied, his voice masked and face hidden. Who was he? He knew, but didn't. An enigma wrapped inside a Riddle. The headache returned, and Harry felt a twinge of annoyance. Or was it hate? Damn it…_

Harry cried out, falling to the floor, his body wracked with spasms as if hit with the Cruciatus Curse. Gentle hands caressed his scar, holding him close, the warmth of a feminine body making the pain go away. "It was him, wasn't it?" Cho asked, kissing his forehead. "Oh, God, Harry, I was so worried. Can you move?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, his vision starting to come into focus, the tempo of his thundering heart slowing. Shakily, he levered himself into a sitting position, wiping away a trail of blood encrusting his cheek. "The Hospital Wing might have to wait up for me, Cho, I have to talk to Dumbledore."

The intelligent young Ravenclaw helped him to his feet, taking a moment to cleanse the last of the blood off his face. "I assume it's bad, or you would be taking a moment to rest."

Harry nodded, securing his wand at his side. "He's at the Riddle Manor, Cho. Little Hangleton is about to be attacked, and he'll leave nothing left alive."

* * *

"Riddle Manor?" Dumbledore asked, his wizened visage marked with a pensive expression. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, ignoring the questioning glances of Snape and Stormfury. "That was the one thing I picked out from the vision. Voldemort is at the Riddle Manor. Or one of his lieutenants, I'm not quite sure."

A pregnant pause filled Dumbledore's study, broken only by Severus Snape's disdainful hiss. "So why are you bothering us with these frivolities?" the greasy-haired Potions Master asked snidely, baring his yellowed teeth. "You may be unaware of this, Potter, but there is a war going on, and you are wasting valuable time."

"I'm just telling you what I saw, alright?" Harry shot back, green eyes betraying murder. "Look, this vision was different from the others. It-"

"As if your fruitless efforts at Occlumency would assist you in determining what is real and what is false," Snape cut him off, making no attempt to hide his contempt. "I doubt that you could shield your mind from the Dark Lord for an instant. Albus, why do we persist in giving an audience to this nonsense? Voldemort is using the boy just as before, and if we send the Order to Riddle Manor, it will most certainly be a trap."

"Or Tom could be trying to lure our forces away," Dumbledore finished, turning his long nose back to Harry. "What do you think, Harry? You can be the only accurate judge of Voldemort's visions in this situation. Have you considered the possibility that it might be false?"

Harry was silent for a few moments, shocked that the old Headmaster would put so much faith into him, especially considering how his visions has caused trouble for the entire Order the last time. Perhaps it was a sign of Dumbledore's growing trust in the young man, or merely a desire to learn the facts as he saw them. In either case, Harry took the opportunity to voice his own theory, grateful for that chance. "To be honest, it was the first thing that passed through my mind. That's the problem, I guess," he said, remembering how Voldemort's false vision the previous year had led Sirius to his death. "If we don't respond, then the Death Eaters might attack the village and we'll be left with the blood of innocent people on our hands. If we do, many of the Order could die. Even worse, it's might be just another feint, and he's attacked somewhere else. It seems like we can't win either way."

"Damned if we do, and damned if we don't," Stormfury declared, drawing his blue cloak around him, giving the titanic Shadow Hunter a brooding appearance. "The Dark Lord is a cunning opponent, but without honour. He strikes and schemes from the shadows, unwilling to meet his opponents in pitched battle."

"All the more reason why we should be cautious," Snape argued. "I have no love for the Dark Lord, but I will not see our forces depleted and the lives of our troops wasted just because Potter here runs in screaming about visions. We can't trust them, as the death of Black showed…"

"Harry's right, you know," Cho interjected, trying to stem any conflict between the group, verbal or physical. "Voldemort is liable to gain through whatever course of action we take. Perhaps a small group could be sent to determine if there are any Death Eaters in Little Hangleton. That way, the bulk of the Order is kept in reserve in case the vision was a distraction, and if it is true, some troops will already be in place to delay Voldemort's attack."

Dumbledore stroked his chin in a pensive manner. "A sound strategy, Miss Chang. Yes, a compromise is in order at this juncture. Harry, you mentioned that this vision felt different than those you had experienced last year. What exactly did you mean by that?"

Harry thought back to the vision with the red-masked Death Eater. "Normally, when I have a vision from Voldemort's perspective, I could feel his emotions like they were my own. This time, everything was muddled and confused. I couldn't tell exactly what Voldemort was saying or feeling, there was this haze over everything. Maybe I'm wrong, I don't know. The compromise sounds good though. One way or another, we have to be prepared, and sending a small party to Riddle Manor is a good idea."

Cho gave him a little smile, squeezing his hand gently. "Thanks, Harry. You might want to consider putting the Order at a higher state of readiness, just in case. Voldemort prepared the December attacks precisely and efficiently, drawing our forces away in order to strike. Hopefully, we can stop something like that from happening again. Even more importantly, we can give the people hope."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Think about it, Harry," Cho answered, explaining patiently. "One of the greatest weapons of the Death Eaters is fear, and as long as they maintain it, then the majority of witches and wizards won't even think of fighting them. We need a solid victory to rouse them from their desperation and show them that Voldemort can be beaten. Thwarting his schemes at Riddle Manor could do just that."

Snape's cough drew the collective attention of the group back to him. "Bold but foolish, Miss Chang. For a Ravenclaw, I would have expected you to be far more logical, especially given the fact that Potter's vision is no doubt false. Although you share some…affection for Potter, I don't expect you to leave your common sense at the door."

Harry stepped forward, fire in his eyes and a hand at his wand. Cho held up her arm, blocking the young Champion from advancing and doing anything foolish. "Well then, Professor, since my suggestions seem flawed, why don't you enlighten us as to the correct course of action? After all, I'm just a little Ravenclaw, whilst you're the man who stood at Voldemort's side for years. As a man who served that monster for years and aided him in his campaigns of terror, I'm certain that you'll have the answer." Beneath the polite question, the meaning of her comment was clear, suspicion flashing in her dark eyes.

The greasy Potions Master's face went paler than normal, if such a thing was possible, Cho's sharp verbal barb striking deep. "How dare you?" he screamed, his face burning red with uncontrolled fury. "You dare to question my commitment to the Order? You insolate w-"

"Enough, all of you!" Dumbledore boomed, silencing any argument. Very rarely did Dumbledore ever raise his voice, and Harry could only stand dumbstruck, too bewildered and shocked to come to Cho's defence. "I understand that we all desire to defeat Voldemort, but we must not let our passions override our reason!" The fire left his eyes and the old archmage slumped in his chair, wearied and worn out. "Daelin, investigate the Riddle Manor and ensure that no innocents come to harm. Take whatever forces you feel necessary, and protect Little Hangleton from any danger. Use your judgement in determining a suitable course of action."

Stormfury gave a feral smile, popping a lingering crick in his neck. Harry's blood ran cold despite himself, seeing that maniacal grin that adorned the Shadow Hunter's face at the prospect of battle. Briefly, Harry wondered what madness drove him on, before the titanic warrior gave his reply. "Of course, Dumbledore."

"This is folly!" Snape barked, whirling towards Dumbledore, eyes large with equal parts fright and anger. "We're playing right into the Dark Lord's hands by following Potter's advice! We're-"

The former Death Eater got no further. With a sharp, brutal cry, Stormfury lashed out with a nasty left hook, catching Snape beneath the chin. It was a poorly aimed punch, launched out of frustration than of actual skill, but the end result was the same. Snape crumpled like a scrap of tinfoil, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fell, completely pole-axed by the force of the blow.

"Daelin!" Dumbledore shouted, appalled by the sudden assault. "What-"

"He shall not impede me further, Dumbledore," Stormfury snarled, his eyes burning with an inner madness that made the Shadow Hunter almost as terrifying as the horrors he fought. "Rebuke your Potions Master firmly, and remind him of the consequences of delaying our campaign. I shall not be so gentle next time." His cloak swirling about him, Stormfury stalked out angrily, harsh footfalls pounding on Hogwart's weathered stones like ominous drums, the wake of his passage completely disconcerting for all involved.

Cho shook her head in disgust, moving over to the prone Snape, agonized moans seeping through his broken jaw. "He'll need some Skele-Grow and won't be able to eat solid foods for a while, but he'll be alright," she stated, sharp eyes examining the massive bruise, faded crimson lips curling up into a distasteful grimace. "Professor Dumbledore, Harry, I'll take him to the Hospital Wing. Knowing the two of you, you've probably got some important secrets to discuss, as usual. I'll get out of your way so you can have your chat."

"You don't need to do that, Cho," Harry answered her, slightly befuddled at her declaration. "You deserve to hear whatever Dumbledore and I have to discuss, you don't need to excuse yourself."

"Oh, I intend to," Cho replied, smiling faintly. A wave of her maple wand, and Snape was lifted by invisible hands and placed upon a conjured stretcher. "However, our resident Potions Master doesn't really seem in the mood to wait. I'll help Madam Pomfrey get him patched up, then return once he's stable. See you later, Harry. I'll get a Pain Numbing Potion for your scar if you'd like."

Harry winced at the thought of his curse-mark. "That would be great, actually. I'll meet you later, okay?"

Cho nodded, giving a respectful little bow to the Headmaster, who returned the gesture. "Absolutely. Anyways, see you." Another short incantation, and the stretcher levitated three feet above the ground, directing the unconscious Snape towards the Hospital Wing. Cho gave Harry a reassuring look before departed down the passage, her silent exit a stark contrast to Stormfury's violent outburst.

After the elegant Ravenclaw had left, Dumbledore began to chuckle softly, turning to his young compatriot. "It seems you have found a true friend and companion in Miss Chang, Harry. A worthy companion indeed. Now, tell me, did you see anything more in your visions?"

Harry coughed to clear his throat, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feelings that raced through his mind. _He couldn't possibly know about- Could he?_ Keeping his composure, the young Champion related to the wizened sage the other visions he had witnessed. "The first one was of a young woman in labour. She was in incredible pain, and after a few moments, she died, almost as if she suddenly just gave up. It was hazy and I didn't really get a good look at her, but the room seemed to be grimy, almost impoverished. Does that mean anything to you?"

Dumbledore frowned deeply, his ancient brow furrowed up as he considered. "Yes, Harry, it does, and something unpleasant at that. Continue."

The young Gryffindor paused to compose his explanation before continuing. "There was one other vision. It was a younger Riddle, and he was speaking with…you." Harry looked at Dumbledore curiously, seeing his pale blue eyes mist over with regret. "What happened?"

"Now there is no doubt that the visions you saw were true, Harry," Dumbledore said. "The woman you saw in Voldemort's mind was Merope Gaunt, his mother, and member of one of the oldest wizarding families in England."

_Voldemort's mother_. Harry could barely comprehend such a concept. He knew that Riddle had been orphaned, but could never picture his parents. "I've never heard of a Gaunt family before."

"I would be surprised if you did. The Gaunts are extinct now, but when they existed, they were rabid pureblood supremacists, claiming to be descended from Salazar Slytherin and harbouring intense hatred for Muggle-borns. Such was their distain for 'lesser' wizards that the family had a disturbing habit of marrying their own relatives, and as one might expect, this resulted in unhealthy consequences for the bloodline. If Voldemort is truly a scion of Slytherin, albeit without the energies of the Founders, then the blood of the Serpent Lord would have originated from the Gaunts."

Harry let this new information sink in before replying, "If Cho is right, then the Gaunts must have been an earlier line of Slytherin, before the Founders obtained their energies. Otherwise, some sign of his powers would have appeared in the family before. But, wouldn't they have realized the dangers of this intermarriage? Sirius told me that all the pureblood families were interrelated by marriage because they didn't want their bloodlines to become mixed with Muggles. Couldn't the Gaunts have done the same thing, at the very least?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Unfortunately Harry, that was not the case. The Gaunts were quite proud of themselves and their bloodline, and feared any outside influences that would threaten it. Their fortune had been squandered generations earlier and their influence eroded, but they still had their pride, worth more to them than any form of love or companionship. It was an obsession that led to madness and their eventual downfall. Unlike her father and brother, however, Merope was far less focused on the supposed strength of their bloodline. Instead, she had become smitten with a young Muggle boy from a well-to-do family, who rode past the Gaunt estate daily upon his bicycle."

"Thomas Riddle," Harry answered, eyes widening in surprise, "Voldemort's father. The family probably didn't take it too well, their daughter in love with a Muggle."

"Quite. Merope's father, Marvolo, cursed young Thomas in broad daylight and was sentenced to Azkaban for his troubles along with his son. By all accounts, Merope cherished this new-found freedom. Life at home had been anything but supportive for the girl under the abusive hand of her father. Unfortunately for Merope, her affections for Riddle were not returned. Like the Lady of Shalott, she gazed upon this strange figure and doomed herself to a life of guilt and lost chances."

"What happened?"

"She used a love potion," Dumbledore answered, pushing his silver-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "With a single drop of the solution, Riddle was hopelessly enraptured with young Miss Gaunt, and married her almost immediately. Merope had achieved her fondest wish, but even she realized that the love Riddle held for her was false, an illusion created out of her obbession. And so, she took her husband off the love potion and was cast out instantly, destitute and burdened with child. Her health failing, she managed to give birth to her son in a ramshackle London orphanage, naming the child before she passed on to the next life. Voldemort was born unwanted and unloved, a number in the orphanage ledger, his existence devoid of all human warmth and compassion. When I found him, as you saw in the second vision, he was hungry for knowledge and power. Having spent all his life within the walls of the orphanage, he pleaded with me to teach him, to let him experience all that a wizard could. I had my doubts about him, but I gave the young Thomas Marvolo Riddle a chance, hoping that he could better himself and become integrated into wizarding society."

"But he didn't," Harry said, a flicker of hate in his green eyes. "He used his powers to hurt others, instead of helping them."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry, he went on the wrong path. When you become as old as I am, you begin to question the course of your life. You second-guess every past decision, and in many respects, Thomas Marvolo Riddle is Voldemort because of my own mistakes. It is a dangerous road to travel on; the path of regret and self-doubt, but still one cannot avoid it at times."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied, thinking to his own path of self-loathing after the Triwizard Tournament. "After Cedric died, and Sirius, I couldn't stop beating myself up over what happened. What if I had Stunned Wormtail before he killed Cedric? What if I hadn't gone into the Department of Mysteries? It took Cho's care and attention to help me move past these things, and I still haven't forgotten them."

"Nor should you," Dumbledore declared, giving his pupil a kindly look. "We remember those we have lost because we love them, even after death. I doubt that Miss Chang has completely forgotten Cedric as well. Love and compassion are our greatest weapons against Voldemort, Harry. The love we hold for each other separates us from him."

Harry shook his head, unwilling to accept that idea. "Professor, love is important, but it's not a weapon I can use against him. I can love Cho completely, but that won't help me win battles. I need a sword or a spell to defeat Voldemort, not an emotion."

To his total surprise, Dumbledore began to chuckle merrily, the ancient wizard's beard bobbing up and down upon his chin. "My dear young Harry, do you still not understand? Tell me, when Hogsmeade was attacked, what was your first reaction?"

"To find Cho, obviously," Harry snapped, slightly confused by the Headmaster's line of questioning.

"And what happened when you learned she was in danger?"

Harry was silent for a moment, his eyes widening as he began to understand. "I…lost control, sir. I raced through the town, trying to find her, hexing every Death Eater that got in my way. Then the energies of Gryffindor sparked, and my only thought was to defeat them."

"Exactly!" Dumbledore shouted. "You undertook great risks in order to find Miss Chang because you loved her. While others fled, you stayed behind and defended those you cared about because you loved them. Harry, love is the greatest weapon of them all. Even the greatest magic or sharpest sword is nothing without the will and the determination to use it. A single man defending his home and family is worth more than ten foreign invaders, because he will fight on to the end in order to protect that which he cares for. The energies of the Founders are mighty, but without the love you possess for Cho driving you forward, you would not have fought as well as you did in Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest."

Harry listened intently as Dumbledore continued. "Tom has lived a life bereft of love. He is a being of incredible hatred and cruelty, and human ideals such as pity and mercy are foreign concepts to him. His Death Eaters fight out of fear and hatred, not love for their dark master, and seek only to murder and destroy. Against such evil, can love not be the ultimate defence? No matter what power Tom gains, no matter what matter of minions he brings under his banner, he will never understand love. He will always remain imperfect, always remain less human without it. And because of that, he will never be able to wield the strength that you can, Harry! You are, and remain, our final hope if Voldemort is to be destroyed. The other Champions, your friends and myself may aid you in this quest, but the killing blow must be struck by you alone."

"I still don't think I'm strong enough. I know I have the energies of Gryffindor, but I don't want to completely rely on them for victory. Maybe it's time I took up your offer of assistance from the Order. With Stormfury's help, Cho and I can become even stronger."

"Consider it done," Dumbledore replied, gazing out to the horizon. "Voldemort sought to defeat his personal demons only to be consumed by them. Pity those who have a need for monsters, Harry. For if they cannot find them, they will create them and if they cannot create them, they will _become_ them."

* * *

Little Hangleton was silent beneath dual blankets of frost and night, the heavy snowfall over the past few weeks accumulating into deep drifts, gentle sloping hills of virgin snow that gave a sense of tranquility to the community. The Muggle neighbourhoods were quiet, every light doused, while the wrought-iron fences and gates were locked and barred securely beneath a cover of ice. And upon the western edge of the town sat the Riddle Manor, dark, forbidding and decaying, deserted by the few distant relations of the long-dead Riddles, long abandoned by human life.

Within the past three days, however, an attentive villager might see shadows moving in the darkness of the central hall. Mysterious figures, hooded and cloaked, prowled the decrepit corridors, searching for intruders who would disrupt their work. Silently, the Riddle Manor took on dark, malevolent purpose, all their preparations bent upon scouring the nearby village of all human life. Soon, it would come to fruition, and yet another town would lie shattered and ruined by the Death Eaters, guided by the hand of Asmodeus.

Daelin Stormfury sat within the pine grove that surrounded the Manor, cold blue eyes examining the stark Gothic style, tracing the harsh spires and barred windows, probing for a weakness. The building looked formidable from this distance, but the Shadow Hunter was far more concerned with its inhabitants than any paltry Muggle fortifications. The Manor was built upon a low hill, the gentle slope given any foe occupying the central building both the high ground and an overlook of the entire area. The Shadow Hunters had cloaked themselves with magic, and stood squatting behind the treeline, observing Riddle Manor with the intensity of hawks. Not a living thing stirred upon the plain, only adding to the mage's discomfort. "If there are Death Eaters within, they're certainly keeping quiet. What say you, Lady Avalon?"

Avalon knelt down beside the titanic Shadow Hunter, ignoring the chill wind that struck her delicate features. The young Spirit Walker had insisted on joining Stormfury and his band in their stakeout, despite the horrific experience she had endured within the Ministry. While she had not fully recovered from her telepathic encounter with Kharaidon, her powers would still be useful in aiding the Order, sensing out hidden threats before they could strike. "There are some faint auras, but nothing more I can detect. The Manor is heavily warded, and my powers cannot seem to breach it. No one would bother trying to ward an old wreck like this for no reason. It appears that the forces of the Dark Lord have arrived, just as the Daemonslayer said they would."

"You don't sound surprised," Stormfury remarked, his fingers closing and opening around the hilt of his sword, a reassuring presence to the veteran Shadow Hunter. The two mages were almost direct parallels, contrary facets of a unified whole. Stormfury was a warrior, uncompromising and unconcerned with political squabbling. Avalon was more of a diplomat, interested in forging alliances and gathering a unified front against Voldemort. Stormfury was a master of Elementalism and swordplay, skilled and brutal in his methods. Avalon used her mental powers through subtle methods, rarely engaging in open combat. The Shadow Hunter was a demanding individual, expecting the utmost from his students and fellow soldiers, whilst the Spirit Walker was empathic and peaceful, acting as a friendly chaplain for the Elementalist troops. Still, the two shared a deep sense of respect for one another, uncommon considering their differences.

"The boy is far stronger than even Dumbledore gives him credit for," Avalon calmly replied. "And he has learned well under my tutelage. His skills in Occlumency grow fruitful with time and practice, and he has the will to defeat the Dark Lord. There is no doubt in my mind that the visions that Harry experienced are true."

Stormfury nodded, drawing the hood of his cloak back and breathing deeply of the cold air. "The wards you sensed about the Manor, can they be physically breached?"

"Indeed. These defences only restrict Apparation and act as a form of concealment from outside detection. Your warriors will be able to enter the Manor without fear of enchantments."

"Very well then. Summon the others. Tell them to prepare for battle. We strike the Riddle Manor tonight."

As Avalon departed, her white robes blending with the virgin snow surrounding them, Stormfury drew his sword, feeling the slightest bit of resistance as the frost stuck to the blade. He allowed himself a moment to stare at his reflection on the cold metal, a once-youthful face worn and aged beyond his years. It was a face wrinkled by the draining effects of the magic, and by the age-old memories that stirred within his heart, buried deep. His was a form made strong by years of incessant fighting against the Darkness, honed and forged in a never-ending series of trials, both physical and mental. The power of Elementalism made him strong, but took from him in other ways. It was the price he was forced to pay for the power of Gaea, the gift he had received all those years ago.

_Twenty years._ Was it really that long since a bitter and broken young man cast himself upon the steps of the Temple of Gaea, pleading with the elders to allow him entrance? He had worn a different name then, but it was still the same man, drowning in the grief and self-hatred that threatened to destroy him. Eventually, his petitioning was heeded, and the young man was granted access to the Chamber of Life, where his training under the Cult of the Shadow Hunters began. He joined a sea of men and women, each desperate and forsaken, desiring purpose and guidance under the loving gaze of the Earthmother. Beneath the watchful eyes of the Priests of Gaea and the veteran Shadow Hunters, he and all the others swore the oath of fealty, casting aside their past lives and embracing a new beginning.

A beginning which few survived. The journey from a simple Acolyte to becoming a full member of the Shadow Hunters was a hard road, designed to test the worthiness of each candidate. They learned the art of swordsmanship and how to kill with only their bare hands. The secrets of Elementalism were taught under controlled conditions, each Acolyte learning to wield the powers of the natural world. Over the four-year training period, most of the candidates died; either consumed by the magic they sought to control, slain in the numerous training duels, or simply dropped dead of exhaustion. Then there were other trials…

Stormfury thought back to the dark forests that encircled the training grounds, majestic and wonderful, home to a diverse selection of Gaea's children. However, even in such beauty lay corruption. Deep within the woods dwelt tribes of merciless beastmen, cannibalistic abominations who worshipped the Dark Gods of Chaos. Empowered by their newfound powers, the Acolytes fought bloody running battles against the minions of evil, a final series of tests before their initiation. More of the Shadow Hunter trainees died this way than in any other and those that survived, barely twenty percent of the original group, were now considered worthy. Even after they became full members of the Cult, their training was never truly complete. Each Shadow Hunter continued to grow stronger and improve their skills as they fought on a hundred battlefields, turning them into more than mere wizards. They were the right hand of Gaea, the Templar of the Earthmother, her holy warriors in an unending campaign against the forces of Darkness. For generations they warred and died in an effort to keep the evil of the Dark Gods at bay, and now they would do it again.

The Shadow Hunter's musings were interrupted by the return of Avalon, with Nymphadora Tonks in tow. The Auror had managed to evade the wrath of Fudge after disobeying orders and joining in the defence of Hogsmeade. With the public eye now fixed upon him, the bumbling Minister could not fire a valuable Auror without bringing his own misdeeds into light, thus sparing the Metamorphangus from any disciplinary action. "What's the plan, Daelin?" she asked, her hair and skin currently snow-white, giving the Auror an additional layer of camouflage along with her white battle robes. "Are the Death Eaters inside?"

"Yes and yes," Stormfury replied, his fingers tracing intricate symbols upon the snow. "Avalon?"

The petite Spirit Walker closed her cat-yellow eyes, thrusting deep into the snowbank and drawing forth a handful of white powder, before casting it onto the breeze. Almost immediately, the snow descended back to earth, and a detailed shape began to emerge. Hillocks and miniature trees formed out of the snow, and a model of a stately Victorian home rose up. Riddle Manor and the surrounding village stood revealed in a three-dimensional map, so detailed that Stormfury could see a tiny representation of himself gesturing to an equally tiny Tonks and Avalon. "Tonks, split your Aurors into two teams. The first will take position on this ridge, overlooking the Manor," he ordered, stabbing the modeled hill with the butt of his staff. "They shall act as a fire-team, thinning the ranks of the enemy and inciting confusion amongst them. The second group of Aurors will assault the Manor itself."

"What about the Shadow Hunters?" Tonks asked, cocking her head as she stared at the model. "If there are many Death Eaters inside, then I don't think that eight Aurors will be able to hold them."

Stormfury nodded, pointing to another area on the map. "That is the plan. As soon as the strike team encounters heavy resistance, withdraw to this position. The fire-team will offer you protection as you fall back, and my Shadow Hunters will take care of the rest. Be prepared to attack as soon as they break, but be careful. There's no telling what dangers lurk within the Manor, so stay alert."

Tonks gave a wicked smile, drawing her wand. "A feint to draw them out. Bugger me, this could work. Alright then, I'll give the order. Just make sure your troops are ready to back us up."

"I shall," Stormfury replied, giving the Auror a slight bow. "Now go. Remember to disengage before you become too mired in battle." Tonks nodded in assent, then crept away, signalling her own warriors to follow her. Eighteen Aurors garbed in battle robes and cloaks made their way to the rally point, their movements swift and silent upon the frozen ground. Stormfury allowed himself a moment to study their progress, before calling his personal troops forth.

The Shadow Hunters emerged from the treeline with the grace of panthers, crouching low to avoid detection, an aura of incredible power rolling off their agile forms. A half-dozen of Gaea's warriors, both men and women, made their way over to Stormfury, kneeling before the veteran Shadow Hunter, their eyes burning at the prospect of battle. "Arise, my brethren, and take heed," Stormfury said, his voice brazen and clear. "Tonight, we shall send a signal to the enemies of Gaea. Tonight, we shall take the offensive against them, and bring fire and destruction to their homes as they have done to the homes of others. The Dark Lord is a creature that thrives upon the fear of his enemies. Tonight, we shall make him know fear, and he shall tremble at the thought of our coming!"

"The Earthmother has blessed our mission, Praetor!" one of the Shadow Hunters cried, raising his sword skywards. "The heretics cannot stand long against our might!"

"Indeed, brother, they cannot," Stormfury replied. "Now, listen close. As soon as the Aurors draw the enemy out, you must link your powers with mine and aid the incantation. Once the Death Eaters ranks have been thinned, then assault the Manor and destroy any of the Dark Lord's minions that lurk within. Stay focused and alert, and our foe shall be crushed with ease."

The Shadow Hunters nodded, and Stormfury examined his squad. Seven Shadow Hunters, including himself, and Avalon. Enough firepower to grind a company of Death Eaters to dust. Even with such might under his command, Stormfury would have to be careful and not throw the lives of his warriors away. The Shadow Hunters following him were less skilled, less powerful, less experienced. While they were devastating fighters and mages, their innate mana reserves were not as great as Stormfury's, so energy drain would be a problem. Each of the Shadow Hunters could easily defeat multiple Death Eaters, but he wouldn't be able to push them as far as he could himself. Even then, a single Killing Curse would end the life of even the strongest Shadow Hunter, and the Dark Lord's minions could conjure plenty. _Break their ranks and their spirit. Give us a chance to get in close, we can take away the advantage of the Killing Curse._

Several minutes past and the Shadow Hunters waited, concealing themselves behind the treeline, each fighter whispering prayers to their goddess as they prepared themselves for the coming clash. Avalon's yellow eyes met the blue of Stormfury's for the briefest instant before she turned her attention back to the Manor, her brunette locks caught by the cold breeze. "Look! Right there, over by the entrance!"

A pair of black-cloaked figures emerged from the darkened mansion, grumbling under their breath as they pulled their cloaks around them to ward off the chill. The stench of tobacco assailed Stormfury's nostrils, grey smoke wreathing from their mouths, giving the Death Eaters the air of dragons. In the corner of his eye, the Shadow Hunter saw Tonks silently stalking forward, she and her Auror platoon levelling their wands at the enemy. _Now_.

The first Death Eater was thrown backwards by the force of Tonk's Reductor Curse, the hex slamming him in the face, shattering his nose in a bloody spray. His partner screamed as a Cutting Blade Hex dug into his side, pitching him onto the ground. A second hex slashed through his jugular vein and the Death Eater spasmed in a pool of his own blood. The cry cut through the crisp night air like a sharp blade, followed by the scream of curses as the Aurors unleashed a barrage of spells. Windows shattered into a thousand fragments, the main doors were blown off their hinges, and great rents and gouges appeared on the Manor walls. Flashes of purple and red light up the night like the work of a deranged fireworks handler, the sudden burst of light causing Stormfury's eyes to water.

A few Death Eaters stormed out of the ruined entranceway before being swiftly cut down by the curses of the Aurors, decimated by their close formation. Whomever commanded the black-robed murderers must have realized this, and pulled his troops back, restraining them from throwing their lives away. Meanwhile, Tonks barked out orders on the ridge. "Alright, Aurors!" she cried, her face flush with excitement. "Assault team, get ready to charge. Fire-team, prepare to cover us as we advance. Watch the entrances and any windows, resistance is bound to come from there."

The Aurors nodded in understanding, and Tonks stormed over the lip of the ridge. "For Merlin and the Ministry! _Charge!_" Screaming like men possessed, Tonks and eight of her comrades threw themselves down the embankment, hitting the ground running as they charged up the hill, spreading themselves into a skirmish formation to avoid being hit. The Metamorphangus barely had time to shout a warning before the first of the Death Eater curses landed all around them.

The Death Eater commander had posted snipers by the broken windows and within the rickety towers and upper bedrooms of the Manor. From these elevated positions, black-cloaked figures fired Killing Curse after Killing Curse at the approaching Aurors, a literal tide of green energy pouring forth, threatening to tear the attack to shreds. Tonks threw herself to the side, conjuring a small stone block in front of her to provide some cover. "Fire! I need fire!" she screamed, gesturing towards the enemy position. The Auror fire-team responded with precise curses, stunning and wounding many of the Death Eaters and forcing the others to keep their heads down. The assault squad took advantage of this brief respite, conjuring shelter before firing back. Tonks blasted a sniper away with a Reductor Curse, dodging to avoid an enemy hex. Three of the Aurors shouted a violent incantation in unison, and a section of the masonry exploded outwards, catapulting two Death Eaters to an untimely death. For a fleeting instant, she doubted the Shadow Hunters were needed. They could hold! They could win!

And then the two Aurors next to her evaporated into dust, their bodies literally turning to sand, cast upon the breeze with a dying curse. A third wizard gave an agonized scream as invisible talons ripped him to shreds. The Aurors paused in their assault, stunned by the brutal deaths of their comrades, the impetus fading. Tonks observed a red-masked Death Eater emerge from the main hall of the Manor, directing the defenders in their efforts, a long curved knife in his right hand. The Dark Mark erupted from his wand, and a score of Death Eaters stormed forth from the central hall, advancing slowly under cover of Killing Curses. Screaming foul praises to their master, they charged, their commander directing them from a safe distance.

It was time to retreat. Tonks launched a burning red flare skywards, and the remnants of the Auror assault team began to fall back, their numbers halved by the fury of the Death Eater counterattack. The fire-team sent a volley of curses into the pursuers, only to watch as their spells fizzled against the enemy's shields. Suppression curses from the Death Eater snipers inside the Manor fell amongst them, killing two and forcing the others to keep their heads down.

"Now, my brethren," Stormfury intoned, raising his eyes toward the heavens. "Aid me and our enemies will be undone." A low, dirge-like chant emerged from his lips, and his fellow Shadow Hunters joined in, seven voices joined in unison. The power emanated from the warrior-mages in harsh waves, their efforts joined in perfect harmony, body, mind and spirit united in their spell-weaving.

The winds began to pick up, sending snow swirling around the battlefield, dark clouds coalescing overhead of the Death Eater formation. The chanting increased in speed and urgency, and the wind mimicked it, growing stronger and stronger, lashing at the black cloaks of the enemy. The Death Eater commander opened his mouth to shout out a warning, his voice swallowed up by the howling gale.

With a final, torturous scream, the Shadow Hunters ignited their spell. The dark clouds that hovered menacingly over the Death Eater ranks burst in a shower of lethal ice, deluging the black-cloaked murderers with frost. The wind roared its challenge, and the Death Eaters found themselves caught in a fearsome blizzard, slicing through skin and bone with the fury of a daemon's whip. They howled as they were consumed, clutching their faces with ravaged hands, torn apart by the intensity of the storm. The Aurors atop the ridge cheered, and Tonks promptly rallied her surviving troops in a swift counterattack, throwing the remnants of the Death Eater assault back, clearing them from the hill and the Manor's outer wall. "They're falling back! Charge!" Tonks screamed over the din. "Cut them to shreds! Come on!"

Back at the treeline, Stormfury breathed deeply, feeling the rush of mana flood his senses, a spark of pure power to his synapses. The sensation faded, and the Shadow Hunter felt empty, drained by the effort required to cast the spell. _Nothing I can't stand_, he thought to himself, concentrating and tapping more of the power of his use. _Wondrous!_

His fellow Shadow Hunters grinning the same feral smile beside him, Stormfury drew his sword, raising it above his head in proclamation, his eyes burning with hatred and the fire of mana. "We have seen the acts of evil, my brothers and sisters! We have watched as the dark ones murdered women and children. We have witnessed the minions of Voldemort defile innocent young lives and bring homes and communities to ruin. We have experienced the agony of losing our friends and comrades in battle, and we have observed as the tides of darkness prepare to sweep over these lands and destroy all life, all hope. I say no longer! Bring justice to these foul heretics, and let none survive! Burn this manor, _burn it to the ground!_" With that declaration, fire leapt forth from the assembled Shadow Hunters and a volley of burning missiles scorched the sky, impacting around the Manor. A Death Eater cried out as he was consumed, and explosions rocked the foundations of the main building.

"Gaea wills it! _Death!_" Stormfury screamed, and the Shadow Hunters answered his bloodthirsty cry. The hearts of the Death Eaters quailed with fear as seven daemons charged towards them, bellowing at the top of their lungs. A few harsh words and hexes from their commander, and the Death Eaters rallied, one group preventing the Aurors from flanking them, while a second unit met the Elementalists.

Streaks of green light burned up the night sky, impacting around the Shadow Hunters, sending small plumes of snow flying. The Elementalists automatically spread out to avoid being hit, chanting in their alien tongue as each warrior prepared their next spell. Acting quickly, the Death Eater commander ordered another volley, and thirty bolts of emerald death sped towards the warriors of the Light.

This time, they were not so lucky. Stormfury screamed in rage as a Shadow Hunter was struck by several Killing Curses, the fire in his eyes snuffed out as his body descended. Aurors fell, struck dead before they could cry out. Stormfury bellowed his challenge and his comrades responded with equal fervour, the loss of their fellows serving only to spur them on, increase their desire for blood and death. The Death Eaters panicked as the warriors of the Light continued their charge, and not even the stern gaze of their red-masked leader could hold them in check. Like beads off a string, the Death Eaters broke. The Shadow Hunters and Aurors ploughed through the gap, cutting them down in a bloody harvest, spells and swords carving the trail.

Stormfury slashed left and right, hacking his way through the throng. A Death Eater's head parted company with his shoulders, drenching the Shadow Hunter from head to toe in scarlet. Using his staff to parry enemy knife blows and keep them at bay, Stormfury spun on his heel, slicing a foe's stomach open. The Death Eaters stumbled over themselves in their haste to escape him, and he greedily took advantage of their miscalculation, descending on the enemy with the ferocity of a rabid wolf.

Three Death Eaters had assembled in front of the Manor's main entrance, attempting to pick off any flanking Aurors before they could reach the building itself. Avalon threw them back with a telekinetic blast, her thin frame straining under the pressure. Tonks wiped up a straggler with a Blasting Curse, and the combined Auror and Elementalist forces burst into the main hall, clashing with the surviving Death Eaters that lurked in decaying halls. The impetus of the initial charge now spent, the forces of the Light found themselves fighting in bloody close-quarters combat, each corridor, each room a desperate struggle for survival. The superior fighting skills of the Shadow Hunters and squad tactics of the Aurors gave them an advantage, but the greater numbers and familiarity with the building assisted the Death Eaters in their defence.

"_Scythios!_" Tonks screamed, the enchanted blade cutting deep into a Death Eater's chest. Quickly diving out of the way to avoid a Killing Curse, Tonks cast the perpetrator aside with a Reductor Curse, the impact slamming him into the wall, causing cracks to form in the plaster.

Two Death Eaters leapt at her, green light gathering at their wandtips. Tonks struck first, tossing a Blasting Curse into their midst, the shockwave throwing them aside like rag dolls. A sickening crack sounded as one of the Death Eaters smashed his head against an antique cabinet, knocking the man unconscious. His partner, dazed by the hex, faired little better. As the man came to his feet, Tonks shattered his kneecap with a curse, dropping him to his knees, giving the Auror a perfect shot at his throat, leaving the black-cloaked murderer choking and gasping in a pool of his own blood.

Stormfury drove his sword into a Death Eater's back with a bloodthirsty cry, matched only by the agonized squeal of his victim. Wrenching the crimson-tinted blade free, the Shadow Hunter cleaved the head from a second Death Eater while parrying a knife thrust with his staff. The magic reacted to Stormfury's bloodlust, fire bursting forth from the staff, flaying Dark wizards with a whip of searing heat. The Shadow Hunter began to laugh insanely, the hidden demon lurking within his soul driving him forward, causing his hold over the magic to weaken. Fire launched from his fingertips, scorching the wood panelling, inciting panicked cries from the Death Eaters and harsh oaths from his own allies. Briefly, Stormfury heard Avalon's voice cry out in the darkness, but he paid no heed. The mage's maddened gaze focused on another figure, one striding gracefully through the throng with blades bared and gleaming.

With all the speed and agility of a panther, Asmodeus struck, dark eyes hard behind his crimson skull mask. An Auror barely had time to scream before a curved blade found his heart, a scarlet rose blooming on his lips as he fell. Moving incredibly quickly, the First Death Eater spun, slashing out the throat of a second Auror hoping to get the drop on him.

Tonks swore, seeing two of her comrades dead in an instant. A white-blue comet exploded forth from her wand towards Asmodeus, crossing the distance between the two in seconds. Before Tonk's astonished eyes, the First Death Eater leapt straight up, tucking his knees in towards his chest, causing him to roll in mid-air and evade the hex entirely. Before he touched the ground, his wand was out, firing streaks of black and grey. A chest of drawers next to her dissolved into a pile of sand, and Tonks narrowly avoided the same fate by throwing herself backwards. The dramatic appearance of Asmodeus threatened to destablize the entire offensive, the Death Eaters emboldened by the arrival of their Master's chief servant, hatred and wrath burning in corrupt hearts.

One of the Shadow Hunters charged at Asmodeus, his sword glistening with melted snow and blood as it sang a path towards his target. The First Death Eater brought up one of his long knives to parry the blow, whilst the other stabbed towards his side. The Shadow Hunter twisted away, kicking out with the force of a piston, a blow that would have shattered ribs if it connected. Asmodeus ducked, going into a spinning kick, knocking the feet right out from under his opponent before driving a knife straight into his heart. Death Eaters cackled wickedly upon seeing one of their most hated foes dead, and they counterattacked with further intensity.

Stormfury gave a horrible scream, and the forces of the Light joined him, plunging into the enemy ranks. Instead of losing hope, the unified Aurors and Shadow Hunters became even more determined to see victory, matching the Death Eaters blow for blow. Stormfury ploughed through the tide of black-cloaked figures, summoning a devastating blast of fire to clear the way. Death Eaters dropped like flies, and Stormfury bounded over their smouldering bodies, landing nary six paces from Asmodeus. "Turn, heretic!"

With agonizing slowness, Asmodeus complied, his altered voice deep and booming as he addressed the Shadow Hunter. "So, you're the one they all fear. Praetor of the Shadow Hunters, one of the greatest warriors of the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter's personal tutor." The First Death Eater laughed disdainfully, letting his wand hang loosely by his side. "Shadow Hunter, you are a fool, a ghost of a past age! Your superstition will not deter the Dark Lord from completing the Grand Crusade."

"There is nothing holy in genocide!" Stormfury replied, teeth bared in anger. "Nor is there in consorting with the Dark Gods. Do you truly understand what you are doing?"

"Of course," Asmodeus declared calmly, as if reciting names and dates from a textbook. "We are ensuring the survival of our people and the ascendancy of wizards to their rightful place, namely as masters of this world. We shall undo the corruption and cancer that Muggles have set upon society and create a new Eden for our pleasure. Peace, beauty and order shall reign, as it was meant to be."

"You would set the wrath of Chaos down upon us all! You would murder and enslave millions of people, defile innocent lives! If you truly believe in such madness, Death Eater, then it is you who is the fool. You and your Dark Lord will pay for these crimes!"

Asmodeus shrugged, maintaining a stoic attitude in comparison to Stormfury's barely contained rage. "Salvation requires sacrifice, pagan. The creation of a new order does not come easily, and the blood that we spill shall give strength and fruitfulness to this cause. I don't know how you and the Ministry discovered our operations here, but it means little in the end. Flee back across the sea, and never seek to challenge the Dark Lord again."

"I have fought your kind for the past twenty years, Death Eater, I shall not back down now. Tell your dog of a master that there is nowhere he can hide where the warriors of Gaea shall not find him."

The First Death Eater sighed deeply. "A pity, but you have chosen your own destiny."

Stormfury yelled in pain as a curved blade buried deep into his abdomen, causing him to sink to the ground in agony. Asmodeus smirked, watching on leisurely as Stormfury wrenched the knife out, his face twisted in a painful grimace. "I had expected more from you, Shadow Hunter. Is this the best that Dumbledore and the Elementalists can offer?"

Asmodeus twisted his head to the side, the barbed wooden spike gouging a shallow path through his mask. Shaking off the pain, Stormfury rose to his feet, grasping his sword and pointing the blade at the First Death Eater. "Defend yourself, scum!"

Metal clashed against metal as the two warriors struck, the impact of their blades sending sparks cascading in every direction. Stormfury thrust and slashed with his finely forged sword, blow after blow raining down on the Death Eater commander. The Shadow Hunter held nothing back, the hatred and rage boiling up inside of him as he continued to attack. Asmodeus, meanwhile, held back, using his long knives to parry the enemy's strikes before driving a blade into his side. Stormfury dodged, narrowly avoiding the blow, feinting to the stomach before aiming a double-handed slash at his head. Asmodeus somersaulted backwards, sheathing his knives and drawing his wand in one fluid motion.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A green flash lit up the room, screaming towards the Shadow Hunter. Stormfury dodged, retaliating with a bolt of azure lightning, his face seemingly demonic in its harsh light. Rather than throw himself out of the way of the spell, Asmodeus conjured an incantation, tracing malevolent symbols with his wand. The electric blast fizzled harmlessly, much to Stormfury's dismay. Fire burst from his fingertips, accompanied by a bellow of victory as it engulfed the First Death Eater. Smoke billowed outwards and Asmodeus was left relatively unharmed, drained by the exertion of shielding himself against the mana-based assault. Dark eyes burned murderously beneath his mask, and plumes of steam rose from his now-tattered robes. "Let it be known that I am no simple Death Eater, pagan fool. I am Asmodeus, the First Death Eater, commander of the Dark Lord's armies and trained by Voldemort himself. It was I who organized the assault on Hogsmeade and left your precious town in ruins. You may have just found your match."

Stormfury lashed out thrice, each cut blocked by Asmodeus' knives. "I have never been beaten in single combat by anyone, and you shall not be the first!"

They clashed once more, muscles straining as both wizards pushed, trying to break the deadlock of their blades. Asmodeus sprung on his heels, kicking the Shadow Hunter in the side of the head. Stormfury rolled with the blow, evading the long knives that screamed past him. A barked command, and vine tendrils exploded from the creaking wood floor, moving to throttle the life from the First Death Eater. Asmodeus quickly dispelled the enchantment, casting three Cruciatus Curses in rapid secession. Stormfury tossed his staff into their path to distract his opponent, bulling forward, his sword lowered for an impaling strike. Asmodeus sidestepped, his blades biting into the Shadow Hunter's forearms, causing him to drop his weapon. A ferocious kick to the shoulder knocked him off balance, and the Dark wizard leapt for the kill.

At the last moment, Stormfury dodged, smiling darkly as the First Death Eater sank his weapons to the hilt into the floor, wedging them fast. Stormfury immediately took the offensive, rearing back for a knockout blow. Asmodeus reacted with unnatural speed, striking with an open palm at the Shadow Hunter's ribcage, momentarily stunning him and cracking ribs in the process. Wrenching his knives free, Asmodeus attacked, only to have his blades parried by the veteran Shadow Hunter.

The duel escalated with both combatants giving no quarter, their skills and powers employed to the fullest as they sought to destroy the other. Stormfury unleashed the power of Elementalism against his foe, the fury of the elements summoned forth. Asmodeus replied with the most heinous of the Dark Arts, sending mutated leeches spewing from his wand, while twisted nightmares threatened to consume the Shadow Hunter's sanity. All the while their blades weaved a deadly dance, every blow parried, every strike countered. As the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters struggled to survive, the two wizards fought on, oblivious to the fates of their comrades.

Sweat poured down Stormfury's brow as he pressed the attack, slashing towards Asmodeus' chest before driving the blade forward, hoping to catch the First Death Eater off guard. Asmodeus reacted instantly, parrying the sword upwards as he leapt backwards, trying to gain some distance between himself and his vengeful opponent. His eyes flickered between Stormfury and the shattered remnants of his forces, and rage began to overtake his normally impassive eyes. "The Grand Crusade will not be stopped, and you delude yourself by believing otherwise. Glory to the Dark Lord! _Universa ruina!_"

A tremor passed through the building, then the roof began to cave in with a tremendous crash. Support beams crumbled like dry tinder and the attic collapsed, raining debris over the Aurors. Tonks was struck in a temple with a small chunk of masonry and went down. Panic ignited throughout their ranks, and even the Shadow Hunters had difficultly avoiding the hailstorm of missiles.

Amidst this sea of disarray, the Spirit Walker Avalon was an island of strength. Her yellow eyes burned like great ominous lanterns in the dark, and the next wave of falling debris slowed its descent, hovering in mid-air for a moment before being flung to the side. Avalon gasped in pain, the exertion draining her faster due to her weakened condition, but continued to shield the group from the devastating effects of Asmodeus' spell. Aurors joined her, using Levitating Charms to shore up the collapse and buy them time while the surviving Shadow Hunters conjured great winds to clear an escape route.

"Get out! Everyone, get out now!" Stormfury ordered, scooping up Tonks in his arms. "Avalon, cover us!"

The petite Spirit Walker nodded in understanding, her thin arms raised over her head. The remains of the attic and upper floors halted their descent, though large sections of the roof and support structure continued to fall, albeit much more slowly. Aurors and Shadow Hunters bolted from the collapsing Manor, carrying injured comrades, ever wary of a Death Eater counterattack. Avalon waited until the entire group was out of harm's way before fleeing, throwing herself clear into a nearby snowbank.

With a final, agonized crash, the Riddle Manor imploded upon itself. The elegant Victorian towers toppled like dominoes, crumbling into dust under their own weight. The walls shattered into a thousand fragments, and even the building's foundation began to sunk, the mortar dissolving and flowing like water. The destruction of the Manor was swift and complete, a great plume of dust and smoke rising into the night sky. All that was left of the once-grand estate was a heap of wrecked timber and chunks of stone.

Stormfury deposited Tonk's unconscious body in the hands of the Auror medics, then turned to face the ruin, his bloodstained face marred with anger. "How many of the scum survived?"

"Out of the forty-odd Death Eaters, perhaps sixteen," Avalon replied. "While we did break the Death Eater squadron and disrupt their offensive of this region, no doubt many survived. It seems that the counterattack led by their commander was just a diversion, a rearguard action to allow them more time to escape. A thorough survey of the wreckage will not yield us any useful information on their activities either, as they most likely destroyed or smuggled out anything of value. Whomever this man is, he is a dangerous opponent, and one not to be underestimated. Strangely enough, I couldn't sense any of his surface thoughts, meaning he's very skilled in Occlumency."

"He'll be a corpse when we next meet," Stormfury growled. "Causalities?"

"Nine of the Aurors have fallen, Daelin, with three wounded. Two Shadow Hunters have died as well." Avalon bowed her head low, and a tear trailed down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Daelin. Gaea shall reward them in the afterlife for their service, but-"

Stormfury turned on her, ashamed by his defeat and frustrated with the loss of life. "But nothing. They knew their duty, Avalon, and they had no regrets whatsoever with this mission. All of you! Gather our wounded and regroup at St. Mungo's. Inform the Oblivators that Little Hangleton is in need of their talents. Move!"

Bloodied and beaten, the Aurors shuffled off, demoralized by the stalemate and saddened by the death of so many of their comrades. The Shadow Hunters still held their heads up with pride, swearing oaths of vengeance as they wiped their soiled blades on the sleeves of their robes. As the force departed, Avalon turned to Stormfury, her voice filled with an unusual anger. "You've changed, Daelin. This war has hardened your heart beyond all measure. You once empathized with those under your tutelage and leadership, but they can no longer seek solace in your presence. I beg you, do not fall into despair and rage while some hope remains upon this earth."

"Long ago, I swore an oath to fight the servants of Darkness wherever they may hide," Stormfury snapped, whirling on Avalon, blue eyes burning with shame and pride. For the briefest of moments, Avalon was struck by terror, feeling the tortured soul that lay within. "Unlike you, I never had the luxury of retreating to my incense and flute whenever disaster struck. Retreat back to your tower and cower in the dark, seer. If it means sacrificing every Shadow Hunter under my command to stop Voldemort, I will do so without the slightest hesitation. I shall see you at Hogwarts." The veteran Shadow Hunter stormed off, thrusting his bleeding knuckles in the folds of his cloak, his footsteps digging harsh trails through the snow.

Avalon stood on the hilltop, her tiny body enshrouded by the cold, pale skin numb to the snowflakes that struck her cheeks. "So be it," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. And amongst the dead and the ruins, she wept.

* * *

By the time Harry reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Cho was already waiting for him; her long legs crossed beneath a long skirt, raven-black hair flowing down her shoulders, chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the pages of a small yellowed book. The sound of Harry's footsteps brought her back to full awareness, and her perfect lips curled up in a contented smile. "Hello, Harry," greeted the beautiful Ravenclaw, reaching to her side for a small vial. "Here's the potion for you. Fortunately, my personal stocks had a good amount of it, or else you would have had to wait until Professor Snape recovers."

"Thanks a million, Cho," Harry said, uncorking the vial and taking a small sip of the potent blue solution. Immediately, the pain faded, dissipating away into nothing. The young Gryffindor gingerly rubbed his scar and breathed a sigh of relief. "What are you reading there?"

Cho raised the small tome up to the light, and Harry caught a glimpse of golden lettering stencilled into the aging leather cover. "It's a book on alternative magicks, Elementalism, and other forms of spellcasting not sanctioned by the Ministry. I thought that the authorities had destroyed every source of information on the subject, but I managed to find this one in Ravenclaw Tower. It's old, the facts presented are mostly unempirical and the author has a dubious reputation, but it's quite interesting. There's plenty of detail on Elementalism and the organization of the Council of Gaea, and the author discusses the nature of daemons as well. So, how did the meeting with Dumbledore go?"

Harry smiled, giving Cho a quick peck on the lips. "Pretty good, actually. Would you like to come inside?" he asked, gesturing towards the portrait hole. "I need to get changed anyway, and I'll have Dobby whip us up some breakfast since we missed it."

"Why, I'd love that," Cho replied, hugging him gently. "It'll give us some time to talk and relax, and I still want to hear what Dumbledore said."

Ten minutes later, Harry, now dressed in a white button-up shirt and jeans, sat at Cho's side, lazily reclining in the Gryffindor Common Room as they devoured the fruits of Dobby's labours. "This is great, Harry!" Cho gushed as she tore through a stack of pancakes. "Do the house elves usually do special orders for students, or do you just have a way with them?"

Harry laughed, helping himself to a few eggs. "Remember how I set the Malfoy's house elf free after the Chamber of Secrets incident? Well, Dobby works in the kitchens now as a free elf. He considers me something of a savoir, helps me out whenever I can. I never would have made it through the Second Task if it weren't for Dobby."

"I see," Cho said, her expression becoming downcast at the thought of the Triwizard Tournament. "Didn't you go to save Fleur's little sister during the Task? I remember there was a big uproar over that."

Harry winced at the memory. "That was me being a complete moron. After hearing the riddle in the golden egg, I thought that the lives of the hostages really were in danger. When Fleur got stuck, I just reacted on instinct. You have absolutely no idea how embarrassed I was when the judges explained the situation, I beat myself up for the better part of a week."

"I actually don't remember much from that Task," Cho said, her eyes taking on a pensive look. "Dumbledore had cast an enchantment on all the hostages to put us in stasis; I only woke up once I broke the surface. It was a shocking experience, to say the least. One moment I'm resting in bed, and the next I'm out on the middle of the lake with Cedric keeping me afloat." She shook her head, slightly disappointed with herself. "I'm sorry to bring all that up again, Harry-"

"Hey, it's okay," Harry stated, wrapping his arms around her waist. Inwardly, the young Gryffindor was amazed by how she kept her composure despite the obvious mental anguish she had suffered during that fateful year. The old wounds were healing, closing up, and Cho had cast aside the shackles that burdened her for so long. "You can talk about these things, I don't mind at all. Through the entire Second Task, I was worried about you, but I knew Cedric would carry you out all right."

"And if something had happened, you would have helped him, just like with Fleur."

"Of course!" the boy exclaimed. "I…I just wish I could have."

Cho blushed, placing a gentle hand on Harry's cheek and gazing deep into his eyes. "But you have already, Harry. We've saved each other time and time again fighting the Death Eaters, and no matter what evils have come against us, we've always managed to pull through. You don't need to feel guilty about anything." She kissed him deeply, and Harry eagerly responded, placing a hand on the small of her back, feeling her heart beat rapidly at her breast. "Now, enough of such regrets. How did your discussion with Dumbledore go?"

"It was interesting," Harry responded, running a hand through her silky hair. Clearing his throat, he explained to Cho the events that had taken place with the venerable Headmaster's study, the discovery of Voldemort's past and the true nature of the power of love. "At least it makes more sense now," Harry concluded. "At first, I thought that Dumbledore was speaking literally, like love was some kind of magical force I could use in battle, like the energies of Gryffindor. Instead, it's more emotional, intangible, a source of strength instead of an actual weapon. Does that make a lick of sense at all?"

"Actually, it makes perfect sense," Cho answered, snuggling up against him. "Don't you see? Love allowed you to defend me in Hogsmeade, and rescue Ron during the Second Task, and save Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. We stay together because we care for each other and no Death Eater can shatter that bond. The Death Eaters don't care for each other in the slightest; a dead comrade means they get greater shares of the spoils. Unity means strength, and I definitely feel that friendship and love are stronger than the hatred the Death Eaters possess. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry smiled, kissing her again. "Always the intellectual, my dear Cho," he whispered, watching in delight as Cho smiled at the compliment. "So, any plans for today?"

"I was thinking of heading to the Simulation Room or the Room of Requirement to get some duelling practice in. Eventually, we're going to have to master the energies of the Founders and apply more control to us it more effectively, Blaise too. We should start holding training sessions for ourselves as often as possible to maintain and improve our duelling skills. We can't afford to get rusty."

"Good idea," Harry said, pushing his scraggly hair from his eyes, unintentionally revealing his scar as he did. "Dumbledore offered the assistance of the Order if we needed it. Perhaps Mad-Eye or Lupin could instruct us? Stormfury or Tonks too, if they're not on a raid."

"It's settled then. Come on, we'd best get started," Cho declared, kissing him softly. "I hope you're not too tired from last night to actually do any training."

Harry gave a wicked leer, stroking her black hair. "It seems to me that you mentioned something about having fun today. And just what did you mean by that?" he quipped, his warm breath filling her ear.

Cho replied with an equally devilish grin. "Training first, _bau-bei_. Voldemort won't wait forever."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to Trayus and LT2000 for editing this chapter. Check out their stories if you haven't already!

Also, from now on I shall reply to all reviews using the new features. If you want a response, sign in!

_Next Chapter: While the children of wizarding England enjoy a bittersweet Christmas, new plots and conspiracies take form as both sides ready themselves for the next phase of the war_


	23. Neville's Triumph

**A/N:** Thanks again to LT2000 and Trayus for betaing the update. Check out their works if you haven't already!

* * *

_Chapter 23: Neville's Triumph_

For the first eleven years of his life, Christmas for Harry Potter consisted of a few harsh words from his aunt and uncle, and Dudley's old hand-me-downs stuffed in a plastic sack and thrown into his cupboard for him to find. His first real Christmas only occurred during his first year at Hogwarts, his friendship with Ron and Hermione making the occasion all the sweeter. However, even that cheerful day was grim compared to this year's holiday, now that he was with Cho. As the weak winter sun shone upon Christmas Day, the two Champions lay nestled against each other in the Gryffindor Common Room, worn out by the constant, alternating rhythm of duelling practice and lovemaking. Still, they didn't complain about their weariness, embracing one another on the couch, a thick blanket wrapped around them. At the centre of the Common Room stood a large Douglas Fir tree, adorned with bright ornaments and tinsel, the scent of pine needles filling the often-musty tower. Presents and torn wrapping paper lay strewn over the floor and although they were enjoyed by both mages, their mutual respect and affection needed no material reinforcement. Hogwarts had been vacated over the past few days, the majority of students greedily taking the opportunity to spend time with their families, so Harry and Cho had no lack of privacy offered to them.

"Your turn," Cho whispered into Harry's ear, reaching for a nearby present, clasping the bulky object tightly in both hands. It was unexpectedly heavy, so much so that Harry also lost his grip. Managing to stabilize his hold on the item, Harry gently placed it on his lap, eyes widening in surprise as the gift-wrap fell away. Laying in Harry's cupped hands was a Pensive, similar to the one Harry had seen in Dumbledore's office. Within the cast-iron bowl, dark waters sat placid and tranquil, the vision-essence that allowed the user to store his memories for view. Elegant Mandarin writing decorated the outer rim of the bowl, while lions, dragons and ravens chased one another on the exterior, the gold engraved beasts given life thanks to the complex enchantments the designer had bestowed.

Harry could only stare and admire the workmanship, envisioning the work that went into the gift. "This is incredible, Cho! Thank you so much!"

Cho gave his hand a loving squeeze. "No problem," she replied jovially. Her voice became serious and she looked into Harry's eyes, her own starting to water up despite herself. "You've just been through so much, Harry, and I thought this might help if you feel crushed by it. When the burden of the memories becomes too great, just place them within the Pensive. It's an easy way to avoid your problems without having to face them, I know, but better that then breaking down under the pressure."

"I understand," Harry said. In truth, he absolutely loved Cho's gift, though he was reluctant to remove some of his more life-defining, if unpleasant, memories into the bowl. Cedric's death, the discovery of the first Prophecy, the fall of Sirius, the sparking of the energies of Gryffindor; these were the events that made him who he was. To remove them was to erase how he came to be, and what he struggled for, and Harry wasn't quite willing to do that just yet. Still, it was a very thoughtful gift, and Harry could still use it for other means, such as analysing the memories of Aurors or captured Death Eaters for strategic purposes, or just holding on to those precious moments with Cho he didn't want to lose. "Where did you get it, if you don't mind me asking?"

The Ravenclaw grinned slyly, running a hand over the Mandarin characters. "My family owns several businesses, one of which is an artificer's shop. I just asked them to prepare a special Pensive for you, and they were more than happy to help." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Business has been bad for them lately because of the war, but they love their trade. So I gave them the contract. They're very good, no?"

"Bloody amazing," came the response. Harry set the Pensive aside before kissing his girlfriend, still astounded at Cho's generosity and the artificer's skill. "Thank you so very much."

The next gift turned out to be from Blaise, and like Harry's lover, her contribution was both practical and elegant. The Champion of Slytherin had fashioned a pair of spring-loaded wand holsters for her friends, the hand-made devices strapped to the inner wrist of their wand hand. Harry tested the contraption out, and was surprised by the pressure the spring exerted, sending his wand shooting into his hand with just a small motion. Grinning widely, Harry replaced the wooden instrument in the holster, already running over the tactical possibilities. With these, drawing his wand in battle was simply and devilishly fast, enabling him to get a curse off before a Death Eater could begin to react. The mechanism was perfectly calibrated, requiring just enough force to activate, while avoiding setting it off accidentally. "First her bombs, now this. I wonder how Blaise can make such great equipment?" he wondered aloud, studying the bracer intently. "She could give the Weasley twins a run for their money, and I doubt they have as much experience with Muggle technology as she does."

Cho reached for the attached Christmas note. "Merlin help us all if those three ever join forces. Regardless, it was wonderful of her to craft these for us, a definite tribute to Slytherin ingenuity." The beautiful Ravenclaw sighed in disappointment, passing the note down to Harry, her eyes turning downcast after reading its contents. "If only she could be with us right now."

Taking the note, Harry saw that Cho was quite correct:

"_Dear Harry and Cho,_

_Hope these gifts find you well. I apologize for not being there to present them personally to you, but something's come up in the dungeons. I'll explain fully once I have uncovered all the details, but for now, just enjoy your presents and I'll meet you in the Room of Requirement later._

_Regards,_

_Blaise"_

Puzzled, Harry turned the note over, as if expecting to find any postscript or additional explanation, but discovered nothing. He hadn't exactly been expecting Blaise in the first place; she remained remote both to the Slytherins and the other Houses, rarely interacting with them beyond professional relationships. Nevertheless, the letter set warning bells ringing in his mind, and the young Gryffindor turned to Cho for council. "Any idea what she's talking about? Least she could have done was give us a straight answer."

Cho gave a small shrug, tracing the message with curious eyes, her mental gears churning along without pause. "My guess is Malfoy, but it doesn't seem like the situation is completely critical regardless. If the Slytherins had started an uprising or students were being hurt, then the letter definitely would have been more urgent. Remember, Blaise only mailed her gift last night, so we would have heard from her this morning if it was disastrous. And this is her handwriting, so forgery is out." The beautiful Ravenclaw sighed sweetly, leaning back and closing her eyes, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. "While I'm certain that she can take care of herself, it would be wise if we were to check on here later, just to be sure."

"You sound frustrated."

The Champion of Ravenclaw nodded, lazily flinging the card onto the table along with the other presents. "I had hoped on having Blaise here with us this morning, in all honesty. She's a near-complete pariah for the entire school, and having a few friends around might help to cheer her up. I do consider her a friend, Harry, and she deserves better then to remain cloistered in some damp snake-pit for the holidays. Still, I suppose other things take priority, but it's galling all the same."

Harry understood her disappointment entirely. He had grown more comfortable in Blaise's presence after the past few weeks, and her daring in Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest had broken down any of his remaining misgivings about working with a Slytherin. She had advanced from merely being an unwilling companion to a friend, and Harry didn't take friendship lightly. "We'll head down to the Slytherin dungeons after we've unwrapped all our presents, I'm sure Blaise will be able to hold out that long without us. I don't think it's an emergency situation either, so maybe we can bring her some breakfast after this."

"That sounds fair," Cho replied, kissing Harry on the cheek. "Why on earth did Salazar Slytherin ever place his House's dormitories below ground? No wonder the Slytherins are always so ill-tempered."

"It's nothing like Gryffindor Tower, that for certain," Harry declared, nuzzling Cho's cheek, "Although the view from Ravenclaw Tower is quite breathtaking as well, Miss. Chang."

"From the Common Room or from my dormitory, Mr. Potter?" Cho asked jokingly, spurring a hysterical bout of laughter from the young Gryffindor.

At last, Harry delivered his present into Cho's waiting hands, his own trembling slightly out of nervousness. Harry was no bloody good at gift-wrapping and had spent a full hour and yards of wrapping paper trying to package his offering for Cho to varying degrees of success. At least he'd had the sense to seal it within a cardboard box before beginning the process, it was a dead giveaway without it. "Hope you like it," he whispered softly, encircling her midsection with strong arms.

If Cho's present had incited surprise and wonder, then her reaction to Harry's outstripped it fivefold. Even a woman as intelligent and erudite as Cho was left dumbstruck as the decorative package disappeared to reveal a new-brand Firebolt. Mouth gaping wide, Cho touched the broomstick with trembling hands, her well-worn fingers sliding over the polished haft, examining the finely-assembled brush at the rear. "Merlin's beard, Harry, this is-"

"A Firebolt, I know," the Gryffindor replied, admiring the wondrous smile that lit up Cho's face. "You're an amazing Seeker, Cho, maybe even better than I am. It's not fair that you should ride an old broom while creeps like Malfoy own newer models. You're a great Seeker and you deserve a great broom, end of story."

Her beautiful expression hardened, the light of inner conflict reflected in her gaze. "You didn't need to go through all this trouble, Harry, my Comet works just fine…"

"But you deserve it," Harry reiterated, letting his head rest on her shoulder while he squeezed her hands gently. "I felt the same way about my old Nimbus, but sooner or later they break down. Trust me, once you use the Firebolt, you'll never want to fly another broom again. Remember that the Quidditch Final is coming up in the next month or so, and I don't want any advantage over you. If we play, we play as equals."

Still in disbelief, Cho rubbed her temples, torn between snatching up the gift and protesting further, "But the expense…"

Once more, Harry forestalled any argument, much to Cho's displeasure. "The expense is meaningless, Cho. I have a vault full of Galleons at Gringotts, and I'm certainly not going to run out anytime soon. Besides, the money's just sitting there, and I thought I'd put it to good use."

Cho's last misgivings crumbled into dust, and her lips met Harry's in a passionate kiss. Harry moaned in his throat as she ran her hands through his messy hair, drawing him in further, his own hands at her waist. Fire burned in his veins, and he drank in her taste greedily, letting himself enjoy the moment. "You're such a thoughtful bugger, Harry," Cho whispered in-between kisses. "Most men would have gotten jewellery or sweets, but you actually bought something sensible."

"Glad you approve," Harry said, kissing her again. His palm gently rubbed against Cho's breast, sending a welcome spark of pleasure down her spine, whilst his right hand ran through her silky black hair. The girl purred contentedly, closing he eyes as Harry placed feather-light kisses at her cheekbones and forehead. It was in these moments that he disregarded all his troubles and allowed himself to fully relax, simply enjoying it all with Cho. Adding the fact that the absence of the remaining campus had given them plenty of time to enjoy themselves and each other, Harry was in paradise.

A paradise lost as the portrait hole swung open, bringing Harry and Cho back to full awareness, their irritation growing as they witnessed those who had disrupted their Christmas. "Bugger the lot of them straight to hell," Harry grumbled under his breath, his green eyes becoming as hard as gemstones. The young Gryffindor mentally reviewed his most painful curses, debating with himself whether to hex their unwelcome guests or engage them verbally first. "At the very least they could have knocked."

Cho sat up, maintaining a dispassionate mask as she held her lover's hand. "Pride, my dear, the worst sin a witch or wizard can commit. Why do they need to announce themselves if they feel they own Hogwarts anyway?"

"Bloody bureaucrats," Harry muttered, smoothing the creases on his shirt. Why was he trying to make himself look presentable when his Christmas with Cho was being interrupted? _They'll pay eight kinds of hell for this._ "Bloody Ministry bastards. Why can't they just leave us alone?"

"Calm down, Harry," Cho reassured him, pushing a stray lock of raven hair from her vision. "It's nothing we haven't endured before," she reminded him, echoing a truth he didn't want to fully admit. Once again, the Champions had found themselves facing unwanted guests, and once again the Ministry of Magic was responsible.

The party of Ministry officers that barged in so suddenly were quite unlike the majority of such groups Harry had the ill-fortune of meeting. Rather than one of the usual Ministry cronies, Cecila Diggory, mother of the fallen Cedric and wife to the dead Amos led the procession, clad in coal-black robes, her face icy and distant as she entered. Fudge usually travelled with a full regiment of sycophants and toadies in his wake, but the human refuse that littered magical bureaucracy were thankfully absent today. Only a single servant accompanied the newly-widowed Diggory as she climbed through the portrait hole, an elderly man with a dignified bearing, almost oblivious to his missing right arm.

The limb in question had been severed or blasted off just above the elbow, and Harry found that he couldn't look away, slightly repulsed by the injury. He had seen men's limbs horribly disfigured in battle and the war had stripped away any moral scruples he had regarding the sight of blood. Seeing an elderly disabled man carrying on despite his loss shouldn't have affected him at all, but it did. Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention back to the composition of the Ministry detail. The remaining four were Ministry Guardsmen, the elite Auror troopers taking up position around Diggory and her servant as if expecting the Death Eaters to emerge from the fireplace at any moment. True to Cho's words, they neigh-swaggered up to the Common Room, entirely unconcerned with their intrusion. Every bone in Harry's body screamed at him to give these petty fools the verbal thrashing they deserved, and if Fudge were present, that would certainly be the case.

However, Harry couldn't bring himself to be so cruel now, especially with Mrs. Diggory. He pitied the poor woman, having lost both her son and her husband in a period of a few short years while the government she served dithered and cowered in their offices. The last time he saw her was after Cedric's death, but she looked like she had aged ten years since then. Deep, wearied lines etched her once cheerful face, and she moved slowly, the spark of life a bare glimmer now. _Perhaps that's why Fudge sent her, make me more open to his demands_, Harry thought, observing her closely. The one-armed servant stayed at her side constantly, offering whispered council as he supported the widow's shaky movements. Slowly, Harry and Cho rose from their seats to give greetings to Diggory and her party.

"Good morning, Mrs. Diggory," Cho welcomed the Ministry bureaucrat, years of having etiquette drilled into her by her family going to good use. The girl's elegant voice waxed diplomatic, but Harry could see another facet to her behaviour besides common courtesy. Cho was worried about what Mrs. Diggory would think of her, her dead son's girlfriend matched with her dead son's rival, and she feared how the older woman would react. "What brings you hear on Christmas Day?"

Diggory didn't even respond to the question, her stony indifference to Cho's friendly getting more belittling than a thousand spoken insults. "Mr. Potter, the Minister of Magic sends his greetings, and asks if you can answer a few-"

"Cho asked you a question," Harry snapped back, insulted by the lack of respect given to his girlfriend and unwilling to back down on the matter. "And she's still waiting for an answer."

"My instructions are to speak with you, Mr. Potter, and no other."

Harry snorted with contempt. _Bloody Ministry_, he thought to himself, feeling Cho's grip on his hand only increase after Mrs. Diggory's retort. "There is nothing you can say that I won't tell Cho later. She deserves to hear what this is all about."

Once more, Mrs. Diggory continued on as if she had heard no complaint. Harry wasn't exactly sure what she intended, but her robotic manner and complete disregard for any outside comments was starting to annoy him. "My instructions are quite specific, Mr. Potter. The Minister desires to keep our discussion as private as possible, so I must ask that your companion remain here," she replied dully. Her bodyguard remained still as statues, wondering how the confrontation would play out, one of the troopers fingering his wand nervously. "Turcio, stay here with the Aurors and attend to Ms. Chang's needs."

"Yes, milady," the servant answered, bowing low as he moved away from his mistress. The Aurors took position around the room in response, watching the doorways and windows for any intruders. One cast a covetous glance over Cho's new Firebolt, only to wilt under the Chinese girl's stare and slink back like a raccoon caught in the light.

Harry sighed in frustration, seeing that he wouldn't win this particular battle. Resigned, he turned to Cho, asking, "Will you be alright here?"

"Of course, Harry!" Cho exclaimed, pointing towards the Aurors. "So long as they don't try to pinch my Firebolt, I feel I shall be quite comfortable here." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, brown eyes casting furtive glances over at Mrs. Diggory. "I don't think she likes me."

The Champion of Gryffindor smiled, kissing Cho on the lips, painfully aware of unwanted eyes on his back. "Hopefully, this shouldn't take too long, okay?" A slight nod from the young woman gave Harry all the reassurance he needed, and he stalked out of Gryffindor Tower with Mrs. Diggory following close behind. Upon entering the halls, Harry turned on her angrily. "I don't like you treating my girlfriend that way, ma'am. She's not just some servant that you can dismiss at a whim; she is an important and powerful witch and shall be treated as such from now on."

"While I have no doubt that is the case, my orders were quite specific-"

"Fudge didn't give you a lobotomy when he gave you those orders, did he?" Harry snapped, his face flushed with anger. Immediately, he tried to calm down, forcing himself to address Cedric's mother with respect. "I apologize, but Cho will be given the respect she deserves, agreed?"

A tremor passed over the face of the Ministry representative, a wave of disdain that sent her lower jaw twitching, but she nodded in agreement, moving on to the purpose of her visit. "Minister Fudge sends his thanks for your brave efforts fighting the Death Eaters at Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. Many lives have been saved thanks to you, and the Wizengamot is considering an Order of Merlin as a suitable reward for your heroism."

Now Harry's curiosity was piqued. While he didn't really want any awards or commendations, it was good to see that the Ministry was taking a more cooperative stance with him, even if only for political gain. But if this was everything the Ministry had to say, then why was Mrs. Diggory so insistent on leaving Cho in the dark? _Something's not right here_, Harry told himself, adopting a neutral expression. "Go on," he said, intrigued but unwilling to embrace Fudge's proposal completely.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes only friendship with you, Harry. We face the same challenges, fight the same foes and desire the same results. We both want peace and security, so is it not reasonable that we should work more closely?"

"Perhaps," Harry replied.

Mrs. Diggory seemed to gain strength as she continued, overcoming her previous shock as she explained the situation to Harry. "The public is afraid, Mr. Potter, and not even the good leadership of the Minister can prevent the mob from panicking." Her voice filled with disdain as she referred to the common citizen, her upper-classes prejudices transparent to the young Gryffindor. "If the public were ever to get out of control, then the results would be worse than Voldemort taking over. You, on the other hand, inspire them, offer the average wizard hope, and act as a shining example for the rest of the country to follow. That's why we want you to join the executive cabinet as a Special Advisor to Minister Fudge, no doubt he would benefit from your experiences fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You can give advice on how to best combat these threats, all the while reaffirming the government's commitment to public safety. Once the war is over, the Minister would be more than happy to give a letter of recommendation to the Auror Academy on your behalf."

"What about Cho?"

"Unfortunately, the Minister's offer only extends to you, Mr. Potter. Ms. Chang has been deemed unsuitable for such a high-level position as her family origins are considered suspect. Minister Fudge would rather have a wizard he knows than a witch he doesn't. Will you do your patriotic duty then, Mr. Potter? Will you join us? The rewards and prestige you will gain are beyond measure. You are meant for far greater things than Dumbledore and Hogwarts can offer you, and the Ministry would benefit from your brave example."

Harry was beginning to understand why she had been selected to speak with him. Cecila Diggory was very good at exploiting emotions and desires, stroking his ambition and leaving him wanting more. For the vaguest moment, he considered the prospects of such a position, but something about the entire agreement seemed rank, and her jib at Cho didn't impress him either.

_Why now?_ he wondered, ignoring Mrs. Diggory's voice as she explained more of the advantages of his support. _Fudge barely paid any attention to me before Hogsmeade. He barely paid any attention to anything, and it's not like him to be so open, so appreciative of other people's ideas. What could he want?_

The Ministry worker continued on, unaware of Harry's silent deliberation. "Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot feels that you are being wasted here. You are a powerful and courageous wizard, and yet Dumbledore keeps you in this castle brewing potions and learning simple charms. It is a terrible waste, Mr. Potter, and the Ministry of Magic will not permit waste to continue. Should you require it, we shall provide a home and servants for you while you work with us, away from the crowds. After all, the hero of the wizarding world shouldn't have to consort with the rabble if possible!" Her voice took on a high, giddy pitch, a memory of Dolores Umbridge assaulting Harry's mind. "The Minister expects an answer soon, Mr. Potter."

"I have an answer right now, actually," Harry replied, the solution dawning on him. _Those buggers. All their power isn't enough for them, so they have to take mine._ "Inform the Minister that I'm not ready to leave yet. These people need me and I won't abandon this school just because a better offer comes up."

"Excuse me?"

Harry wheeled on Diggory, his temper getting the better of him as he stared down Fudge's envoy. "You heard me, I don't want to join Fudge's little country club. The Ministry has done nothing but hinder and harass me ever since Voldemort came back. You threw Sirius in prison even though any brain-dead troll could see he was innocent, you slandered both my friends and I with your choir in the Prophet, and you sent that bitch Umbridge to bully and crush a bunch of helpless students. Did you not know she betrayed Cedric's memory by trying to cover up his death, or was your dedication to your precious Ministry greater than your love for your son?"

Mrs. Diggory's face turned beet-red with shame and hatred, and Harry knew he had hit a soft spot. Filled with righteous anger, he pressed on, venting years worth of pent-up emotion towards the bumbling and corrupt government. "I have had enough with Fudge and his twisted political games. He had proven time and time again that he can't be trusted and is more than willing to stonewall any dissenters or disagreement. I cannot in good conscience work for the Ministry, not while Fudge and his cronies still run things. Maybe if you'd kick them out, then we can talk, but until that time, I'll go my own way."

"The Ministry of Magic is the rightful government of wizarding Britain! You have a patriotic duty to aid it!"

"And what about a government's duty towards its people?" Harry snapped back. "Fudge let Voldemort run rampant for months without lifting a finger! If he had spent half as much time fighting the Death Eaters as he was smearing his political opponents, Voldemort would be dead and buried right now. Don't speak to me of patriotism while the government you serve is more interested in filling its pockets with Galleons as the innocent suffer."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry felt the energies of Gryffindor leap into the palm of his hand, all his concentration bent on taming the often-erratic magic. Seeing Mrs. Diggory's eyes widen to the size of saucepans, he grinned menacingly. "See this, madam? This is the power of the ancients, brought forth to serve once more. I have slain many Death Eaters and worse with this power, and I shall eventually destroy Voldemort with it too. For too long, the Ministry has denied the march of progress and remained rooted in its old hatreds, and I will not be part of such a system. Return to your dog of a master and tell him that the Champion of Gryffindor is not his to command."

"So, have you thrown in your lot with Dumbledore, then? You consider yourself his man?" Diggory questioned haughtily, all pretensions of pleasantries cast aside. "You support that old fool more than the Minister?"

"I trust Dumbledore more than Fudge, but I am not his man," Harry answered, turning his back to the bureaucrat. "I follow my own path, one between the corruption of the Ministry and the insanity of the Death Eaters. Make no mistake, I will aid the Aurors should the need arise, but I will not sacrifice my principles for material power, and that makes me far greater than the vaunted Minister." He doused the flame of Gryffindor, taking several deep breaths, feeling the anger depart as quickly as it came. Swiftly stalking away, Harry stopped at three paces, asking in a quiet voice, "Mrs. Diggory?"

"Yes?" Cecila Diggory's voice echoed her frustrations.

"Cho loved Cedric dearly, and almost fell apart completely when he died. Please, be kind to her from now on." Harry's words fell on deaf ears as Mrs. Diggory stormed away, the servant Turcio and the Ministry Guard appeared instantly at her side, the little party walking at a brisk cadence through the halls, as if fearing that Harry or any of the teachers would attack them. Harry listened intently to the sounds of their retreat, then silence, Diggory certainly rushing to the Ministry offices to transmit the Champion's words to the powers that be.

Harry sighed, feeling weary as he ventured back to Cho and Gryffindor Tower. He had probably invited more public smears from Fudge, but it was well worth it. He wasn't going to fall into the old trap of being control by outside forces, and he felt vindicated defending the memories of Sirius and Cedric from those who didn't care one way or the other. _Well, hopefully I can salvage the rest of the day without those fools around_. Cheered at the thought, Harry took the stairs two at a time, anxious to see Cho's smiles once again.

* * *

On a cold winter's day in London, a particularly keen-eyed Muggle might witness very strange-looking folk exiting an old, abandoned warehouse in the city's downtown core. It was unusual considering that the building had been declared condemned and unsafe for many years now, an old department store that had been boarded up by the city's planning agency. Even more curious was the fact that no one ever saw these strange folk enter, although there was no shortage of them leaving, especially during the past few weeks. However, nothing ever came of it. The wards surrounding the supposed warehouse deflected the intent of any curious Muggles, sending them rushing to unplug the iron, or check on the baby, or head to the lavatory. 

Beneath the illusion of a ramshackle, rat-infested derelict stood St. Mungo's, the famous wizarding hospital, and Neville Longbottom's least favourite place in the world. Neville was not, by his very nature, a hateful person. He enjoyed the company of his peers wherever he could find it, and loved the solace of the Hogwarts greenhouses, hidden from the teasing words and harsh glares of the Slytherins. Despite his innate sense of good, St. Mungo's held a special place of enmity in his heart. Perhaps it was the disinfectant smell of Cleansing Charms that permeated the building, or the plastic smile of the welcome witch manning the front desk. No, Neville's hatred of the venerable institution was at a far more personal level. This was the place that held his parents, broken and defeated, shells of their former selves.

"Hello, Mum," Neville intoned, reaching the Permanent Residence Wing of the building. "Hello, Dad."

Alice and Frank Longbottom didn't reply, staring blankly out the window, their unfocused eyes pay no heed to the thick flurries that descended to earth. Hanging his scarf upon the coat rack, Neville engaged in his holiday visit with his parents, two poor souls who didn't even recognize him and would not remember him when he departed. "Happy Christmas, everyone," Neville said, giving them a loving squeeze. "I got you some chocolate and fresh fruit to enjoy. It's a poor Christmas present, but probably better than you get in here."

Laying out his gift, Neville began to speak about his experiences during the school year. Everything from the banal to the terrifying, his progress at school, his rising position of leadership within the Army of the Marauders, and the horrifying Death Eater attack at Hogsmeade, Neville laid bare every feeling, every doubt, letting the emotions bottled up within spill out in an unceasing tide. "Harry says I'm getting better and better with each practice session," he said, smiling as his mother began to peel the skin from one of the oranges. Helping her complete the task, he continued, his voice filled with modesty. "He thinks I'm ready to help out some of the younger students, but I'm not sure about that. I don't think I'm that good yet. It's getting worse out there, you know. The Death Eater keep attacking and the Aurors are only just starting to respond. If it wasn't for Harry and the Army of the Marauders, then I don't think I would have survived in Hogsmeade."

The blank stares of his parents cut deep, and Neville furrowed his brows, refusing to let the warm stream of tears flow. At this moment, his hatred for Bellatrix Lestrange welled up, threatening to explode. Any other kid could expect a loving hug from his parents at that declaration, soothing words whispered into their ear telling them they would be alright, but Lestrange had taken the capacity for even that simple act away from his mother and father. In this very moment, Neville had never felt so alone in his entire life.

But then his thoughts shifted from the misery of his parents and the image of a wispy-framed girl invaded his mind's eye. Luna's beautiful silver eyes never failed to calm him and Neville found himself longing for the young Ravenclaw's presence. _Well, no point in wishing for what we can't have._

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm fine and wish you a Happy Christmas," Neville said, giving them a last loving hug. "I'll be sure to visit before the end of holidays, I promise." Kissing his mother on the cheek, Neville silently exited the ward, sealing the door behind him.

The crisp winter air stung Neville's face as he wandered aimlessly throughout Diagon Alley, his heart heavy with grief and disappointment. More than anything, Neville wanted to see his parents restored to their former selves, even if for a brief moment. He wanted to hear his father tell him how proud he was, and his mother share with him all her stories of Hogwarts. When the war was over, he wanted family to go home to, not just his ailing and increasing agitating grandmother, but his actual parents, hale and healthy.

As Neville's body trudged through the slush-covered alleys and byways, his mind travelled back to his meeting with Harry in the Room of Requirement. _I could have been the Boy-Who-Lived_. It was a deranged, farcical thought. He, Neville Longbottom, the savoir of the wizarding world? It was completely ludicrous, yet he couldn't help but consider the ramifications. He would be the one with all the power and prestige, wield tremendous influence both in the school and general wizarding culture, and not feel isolated and alienated by his peers. He would be the hero instead of the shy boy wilting under Malfoy's caustic tongue, and Neville allowed himself to relish the idea.

But in the end, it was a stupid, selfish thought. If Harry and Neville had switched places, then it would be the Potters stuck in St. Mungo's while his parents remained dead, and Neville did not wish that fate on anyone. And from Harry's point of view, being the Boy-Who-Lived was not all milk and honey. The constant threat of the Death Eaters dominated his waking hours and assaulted his dreams, while the immense pressure of the two prophecies added an extra burden to an already battered soul. No, there was nothing Neville could do to change the past. All he was left with now was the responsibility to help the forces of the Light succeed. Only…

Neville wished that he could have Harry's courage, his boldness. The shy Gryffindor was inwardly terrified of the Death Eaters and Voldemort, his fear only heightened in this dark times. To Neville, the Dark Lord's minions were the scourge of the wizarding world, unstoppable horrors that descended like a plague, killing and torturing at will. But to Harry, the Death Eaters were just another opponent to be outwitted, outmanoeuvred and outfought, and Neville desperately wanted that kind of confidence to call his own.

He breathed deep of the cold December air, kicking up snow as he walked. All he could really do was try his best to succeed and let the rest take care of itself. It wasn't a very comforting thought, but it was better than nothing.

The slightly rotund Gryffindor arrived at Florean Fortenscue's and ordered a hot chocolate, the kindly storekeeper making his living with piping hot beverages during the winter months. Neville glanced at the scorch marks marring the edge of the outer wall and wondered if the store had suffered any damage during the Death Eater attack the previous summer. It was all too likely, unfortunately. Voldemort's minions were merciless in their attacks, and only the intervention of the Champions and the Order had prevented the entire Alley from going up in smoke. As it were, many homes and businesses had been damaged or destroyed by that assault, and the community had only now fully recovered.

As Neville pondered these thoughts, a thin young blonde slid into the seat next to him, causing the young Gryffindor to jump with fright. Hot chocolate spilled over the rim of his mug, scalding his hand. "Merlin, Luna, you scared me half to death here!"

Luna Lovegood gave a little giggle, her soft hands moving to examine Neville's scorched knuckles. "Sorry about that, Neville, I just wanted to surprise you." Gently caressing the reddened and blistered skin, Luna gave each knuckle a tiny kiss before healing the area with a simple charm. "So, how has your holiday been, brave Neville?"

"Good, I suppose," Neville answered, giving her a tight hug. Luna had let her hair down, dirty-blonde curls lying on the pink cotton overcoat, while her pretty silver eyes drew in his gaze and wouldn't let go. "How has yours been?"

Luna gave a tiny pout, taking a seat beside her boyfriend. "Daddy's worried. The _Quibbler_ has been searched by the Ministry Guard this week, and he's concerned that Fudge might try to shut it down with these new laws of his. I don't think that Daddy's published any editorials supporting You-Know-Who, but I could be wrong…"

Neville smiled, whispering in her ear, "No, I don't think that's possible. Maybe we could stop by his offices before school starts up again and wish him well."

"I think he'd love that," Luna replied, kissing Neville chastely on the lips. "He's in so much stress right now, with the attacks and the Ministry's bullies harassing the staff. He told me to say thank you, for standing up for me back in Hogsmeade."

Neville blushed at the compliment, and became very focused on his shoelaces all of a sudden. "Hey, it was-" His attempts at modesty were cut off as Luna firmly pressed her lips against his in a fiery, open-mouthed kiss. After a moment, the bolder side of Neville took over and returned the gesture, not caring what attention their antics gathered amongst the other customers. She tasted distinctly of mangos, and he groaned in dismay as she pulled away, the deep kiss replaced with a series of lighter pecks that teased his lips and did little to satisfy him.

"That was from me, brave Neville," Luna stated as they paused for breath. "I hope you had an enjoyable time at the Yule Ball. I was a bit worried about Nargle infestations in all the mistletoe, but I'm glad that no one was affected by them."

Neville smiled despite himself, wrapping his arms around her. "Me too. I had a great time, thanks for asking. I'm sorry I kept stepping on your feet though."

"You didn't do it as nearly as much as you might think, so don't fret," Luna answered. "Would you like to walk around for a bit?"

"My Gran's flat is pretty close," Neville suggested, setting aside his hot chocolate and tipping Florean Fortenscue on the way out. "She's having tea with some of her friends, so she won't be around to harass you or anything like that. Besides, I still need to give you your Christmas present."

Luna's eyebrows rose, and a huge grin broke out on her face. "Neville, did you just invite me over to your home, without parental supervision?" Cutting Neville off before he could stutter an apology or retract the offer, Luna said, "I would enjoy it immensely."

The two students departed the shop, arm in arm, and Neville let his gaze fall upon the young girl as he held her close. She was so thin and fragile-looking, like some porcelain doll, and Neville feared for hurting her should he grasp too tightly. A wide, enthusiastic smile adorned her face, a brazen enigma that he couldn't fully comprehend. In spite of the horrors of war that scarred wizarding Britain and the threat of the Dark Lord that loomed over the horizon, Luna still remained optimistic, almost carefree. The conflict had embittered them all, from full-grown witches and wizards to Hogwarts students, but she alone remained unaffected. She was so innocent, almost to the point of naivety, but Neville had no problem with that. Her youthful enthusiasm was one of the things that made her so attractive and her sweet smile could enthral him instantaneously.

By any measure, Neville had fallen hard for Luna, his light in the darkness, a talisman against all the fears that lurked at the edge of his consciousness. No matter what evils the Dark Lord committed against him and his friends, as long as Luna was with him, he wasn't afraid. She was no warrior-maiden like Cho, nor was she gifted with Hermione's sheer brilliance, nor Blaise's cunning personality. She was at heart a wanderer, desiring nothing more than to spend her days travelling the length and breadth of the wizarding world, experiencing all that there was to experience, like Hufflepuff in the days before the Founding. Luna made him feel special, like something more than just shy, clumsy Neville Longbottom, something better, more confidant. Without even thinking it, Neville brushed his lips against her cheek, invoking a happy giggle from the young Ravenclaw. "Why are you giggling?" Neville asked, afraid of the potential answer yet unwilling to show it.

"Because I am happy," Luna replied, her pretty silver eyes meeting Neville's. "People should express their happiness more often, don't you think? The world would be much better off if we just didn't hide what we think and feel. No one would have to feel ashamed of themselves and that's a much better way to live."

Neville nodded sagely, a smile that threatened to go from ear to ear forming. No, Luna was just as intelligent as Hermione or Cho, for those who were willing to listen. She had found her home in Ravenclaw House and as a member of the Army of the Marauders, and paid little heed to the petty voices that insulted and taunted from a distance, either from the Slytherins or the rest of the school.

"Almost here," Neville said, the pair turning the last corner onto the alleyway in front of his family's flat. The apartment complex that he and his grandmother lived in stretched down the length of the narrow street, many of the small residences doubling as places of business for more entrepreneurial tenants. At the moment, the building was quiet and still, any residents present engaged in family Christmas activities, unconcerned with the outside world. Neville slapped his pockets, relieved to find that he hadn't misplaced his keys during the excursion, his pace quickening as he approached the door. "Gran left plenty of tea, I'll go ahead and boil some."

Footfalls sounded behind them, muffled by the tightly-packed snow, and a cold, nasty drawl made Neville's blood run cold. "Sorry there, Longbottom, but tea will have to wait," sneered Draco Malfoy, his noble-born visage disguised beneath a black hood and cloak, the mask of the Death Eaters adorning his face. A dozen Slytherins stood similarly garbed, and all had their wands out, menacing eyes peering from out beneath their cowls. "Me and the mates have been looking for you, Longbottom, you and that pretty little thing of yours, and I am so glad to find you."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Neville asked, the colour draining from his face as he considered the odds stacked against them. Breathing deeply to assuage the fear coiling in his gut, Neville put on the bravest face he could muster, his right hand slowly reaching for his wand. Beside him, Luna did the same, standing impassive and emotionless, betraying no sign of fear at all.

Malfoy chuckled, his voice displaying the first hints of madness. "Many things, Longbottom. I wish that my father was still alive, for starters. And Potter's rotting corpse, yes, maybe his whore for my pleasure. But enough of such grand objectives, not today. I have business with you, Longbottom, and we're going to have some fun before we leave. Sound fair?"

"_Reducto!_" The blazing red curse covered the distance from Neville's wand to Malfoy in seconds, only to fizzle harmlessly against the Slytherin's Shield Charm. "_Reducto!_" Neville cried again, rolling to the ground and pushing Luna out of harm's way. This attack was move successful, sending a boy to Malfoy's left hurtling to the ground.

"_Stupefy!_" Luna's hex knocked out another Slytherin before turning and cursing a third advancing from her right, the spell slamming him into the alley wall. A fourth Slytherin backhanded her savagely in the jaw, causing her to lose her footing on the slick snow and tumble to the ground. Neville moved to aid her, getting two steps before a Reductor Curse slammed him in the chest, sending the boy to his knees. In seconds, the skirmish was all over. Malfoy and his cloaked minions fell upon them savagely, hauling the struggling pair to their feet, pinning their arms behind them and snatching their wands.

A hefty blow slammed the side of Neville's head, causing stars to burst in his vision. Another punch burrowed into his stomach, and Neville folded, wheezing and heaving, the air driven from his lungs a second time. For several minutes, the Slytherins beat him senseless, those delivering the blows motivated by the jeers and encouragement of their comrades. Luna stood stock-still, the thick gorilla arms of Vincent Crabbe restraining her. Eventually, Malfoy ordered his followers to stop the beating. Neville was dragged back up, his face a mass of bruises, brown eyes reflecting all the hatred his soul contained. "Now then, Longbottom, that wasn't too difficult, was it?" Malfoy asked as he removed his mask, leaning in an inch from his prisoner's bloodied face, cold grey eyes seeming amused by the pain his men had inflicted.

Neville spat blood out onto the snow, lifting his head high. The bold Neville that slept hidden beneath the surface was back, his anger and concern for Luna overriding his timidity. It was like a sleeping dragon, difficult to rouse, but impossible to stop once it woke, and Neville let it take control, tempering his words with hot iron. Fire burned in his veins, and the young Gryffindor faced his enemy unbowed, his normally white teeth stained with blood. "It seemed difficult for you, seeing as how you needed a dozen goons to beat me and Luna. The Aurors will be arriving shortly, so you'd best run before they get here."

Malfoy laughed cruelly, and his fellow Slytherins joined in, amused by Neville's sudden brashness. "Feeling all high and mighty now, Longbottom?" the pureblood heir asked in a mocking tone, holding his wand mere centimetres from Neville's face. "You should have learned by now that Muggle-loving scum such as yourself do not dictate affairs to the Lord Malfoy. Are you ready to cooperate?"

"Go to hell," Neville barked, straining against the thick arms of Malfoy's goons. Pain exploded at the back of his head in reply, Goyle's thick chortles left no doubt who was responsible for that particular blow. Fear started to gnaw back at Neville's heart, and his efforts at finding freedom redoubled. The Slytherins weren't here to bully; this was far more serious…and potentially lethal. _Damn those Aurors! Where are they?_

"That's the problem with Muggle-lovers, Longbottom," Malfoy began to lecture, pacing back and forth in front of his prisoners. "There is a natural order to all things, a set hierarchy that provides order in the wizarding world. Only the best of us purebloods are fit to rule, while _lesser_ wizards exist only as labourers for our benefit. Muggle-lovers can't help but try to destroy that harmony, that perfect world of masters and servants where everyone knows their place. It's about time that you learned your place, Gryffindor. The Dark Lord will not accept any rebellion in the perfect world that is to come, the utopian society that existed years ago before the arrival of Mudblood filth."

Neville felt a chill creep up the back of his spine. "Death Eater," he whispered, his courage fading in light of this revelation. Malfoy frightened Neville enough just as a simple school bully, but a Death Eater in such close proximity was doubly terrifying, not just for himself, but for Luna as well. There would be no assistance from Harry or the Army of the Marauders, no last-minute rescue or reinforcements, and judging by their reaction time, the Aurors would also be absent. Only he and Luna would be able to stop a dozen newly-commissioned Death Eaters from killing them and possibly others in Diagon Alley, but they were in a poor position to accomplish this task.

The signature Malfoy smirk emerged once more upon Draco's pasty visage as he rolled down his left sleeve, displaying the Dark Mark branded on his wrist. "The Dark Lord has chosen me to join the ranks of his servants! Like my father, I shall bring honour to both the Dark Lord and my family, and become a favoured lieutenant of the Death Eaters! You should experience it, Longbottom, the power the Dark Lord gives, the spells he wields and the armies he masters. Too bad you decided to throw your lot in with Potter."

Luna spoke at long last, seemingly unconcerned with their position, acting as if she was speaking before a class or discussing the creatures of the _Quibbler_ instead of trapped in Crabbe's harsh embrace. "The power of the Dark Arts comes with a price, Draco, and you are very silly if you think that You-Know-Who will let you gain the smallest piece," she said smugly, ignoring Crabbe's stinking breath at the back of her neck. "And power must be earned, after all. It will not be given without effort-"

Snarling angrily, Malfoy struck Luna hard, the viciousness of the blow stunning the Ravenclaw. Neville had never seen the spoiled Slytherin so enraged before, including his angry appearance during the latest Yule Ball. The boy's face burned bright red, veins bulged at the side of his neck, and the Gryffindor couldn't help but wonder what madness had claimed him. "Earned power, you little slut? I have earned it with blood! The Dark Lord took from me what he needed to forge the Death Eaters into an unstoppable force! I gave him the keys to victory! If you don't believe me, than perhaps you'll believe this!" As the last sentence boiled from his tongue, Malfoy opened the front of his robes, raising his shirt for their inspection.

Gorge rose in Neville's throat as he witnessed the terrible injury Malfoy had suffered. Emblazoned on his pale stomach lay a huge jagged scar, as if a blade had struck him deeply, causing the flesh to sink in towards his gut. A layer of pus wept from the wound, and even the other Slytherins were left stunned by the injury he had suffered. Neville could only gape at his enemy's scar, while Luna remained more composed, her eyes reflecting disinterest in contrast to the startled gaze of Neville. The wound looked old, created several months ago, yet it oozed as if it had been carved yesterday. _A blow from an enchanted weapon, perhaps?_

Malfoy began to chuckle harshly, thrusting himself to within an inch of Luna's face. "Do you see now, girl, the price I have paid for the Dark Mark? The Dark Lord has benefited greatly from my sacrifice, and soon I shall receive a place within the Inner Circle. I will accomplish something that no Death Eater has ever accomplish, the death of Potter. It will be me who strikes him down! Not my father, nor Bellatrix Lestrange, nor Lord Asmodeus, not even the Dark Lord himself! And perhaps once I've slain the bastard and taken his bitch in chains, I'll pay a visit to you as well. You don't seem to understand that a women's duty is pleasure and subservience, not spouting mindless philosophy. My friends and I would be more than welcome to discipline you."

"Not on your life, Malfoy," Neville growled, struggling against the thick arms that held him. "Touch her and die."

"So predictable!" Malfoy crowed, seizing Luna beneath the chin, his voice thick with menace. "The noble Gryffindor hero trying to save the fair maiden from the clutches of the cruel villain. You aren't suited for such a role, Longbottom. You should have stayed out of this business and left Potter's side years ago. As it is, you'll just have to suffer."

A frustrated voice spoke from amongst the cloaked figures. "We're wasting time here, Malfoy. Let's just kill them and get it over with."

"Shut up, Nott," Malfoy shot back, casting an angry glance to the cloaked figure at his right. "We'll dispose of these two in good time. Although, I must admit, I'm finding it difficult to see myself killing this lovely little thing over here. How about it, Loony? Care to serve the warriors of the Dark Lord in your own special way?"

Neville raged like a trapped beast against his tormentors, trying to break through and strangle the life from Malfoy. All around him, the faces of Draco's cronies peered out from beneath their hoods, each as white as bleached teeth and marked with harsh, twisted sneers. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Warren Sasso…the list went on and on. The entirety of Malfoy's inner circle of goons stood beside him, each bearing the Dark Mark and wearing the white skull mask of the Death Eaters. Once again, Neville cursed the apparent incompetence of the Aurors. Here were twelve Death Eaters, albeit weaker, less experienced recruits, and the Ministry's security forces were absent. Didn't Diagon Alley and the surrounding neighbourhoods have wards to detect Dark wizards? Perhaps the magical defences the Ministry had erected only responded to the presence of the Dark Arts, detecting an Unforgivable Curse like a shark sensing blood in the water. The first glimmers of an idea started to ferment in Neville's mind and his pulse raced with excitement. Yes, he could pull it off, but it would be risky. Steeling himself, Neville prepared to go into action.

"Come on, Draco," Nott's voice rang throughout the alley once more, the Death Eater group becoming more and more impatient with their leader. "We can bring the girl back with us, but let's not dawdle."

"Dawdling?" Malfoy turned to face his subordinate, his temper manifesting once again. "This is revenge, Nott, something you would realize if you dug your head out of my arse for one moment. Two of Potter's closest friends, wandless and within our power and you cannot find the patience to enjoy it? Potter killed my father, and blood must be repaid with blood, if not from him then from those he cares about."

If Luna was at all disturbed by the possible fates that Malfoy intended for her, all of them lethal, she gave no sign. "We're not afraid of you any more, Malfoy. We have seen you for what you are, a spoiled little boy too afraid to face his enemies without a dozen thugs at his back," she stated serenely, earning another slap from the pureblood aristocrat.

"You don't know me, Loony!" Malfoy raged, pressing his wand against her throat, foam flecking at his lips. "You don't know how I've suffered in the Dark Lord's name! My father died at Potter's hands, and you don't believe I've suffered?"

"And what about my parents, Malfoy?" Neville didn't even need to work up his indignation upon hearing that statement. "And Harry's, and everyone who has lost a loved one? They were good people your father helped to destroy, and you expect us to feel sympathy for him? He's rotting in hell right now, and good riddance."

The air went still in that moment, and the junior Death Eaters shifted nervously beneath their heavy robes, knowing all too well the destructive nature of Draco's anger. It was a hot anger that boiled and crested within, seizing control without so much as an ounce of resistance, directing his actions unfettered by logic or reason. "Say that again."

"You're pathetic, Malfoy," Neville spat, the hatred acclimated over five years of constant torment at the hands of this preening bigot giving him all the strength he needed. "All your talk of a perfect world and a natural order is bullocks, the last gasps of a hatemonger trying to justify a meaningless existence. You're a coward, Draco, a simple coward, and I'd rip you to shreds without your goons to defend you." Neville looked over at Luna, who nodded in understanding, her pretty silver eyes full of equal part worry and determination. She knew what was going to happen, and readied herself for the worst.

Malfoy struck Neville again, but the Gryffindor barely noticed the blow. "And I'm glad that Harry killed your dad too. He had hurt too many people to be allowed to walk free again, and freedom was too good for the bastard. Despite what you say about all your pureblood power and all that bullocks, the only place his blood ended was on the floor."

Draco raised his wand, and Neville's breath caught in his throat, realizing that this was the moment of reckoning. Uttering a silent prayer that Malfoy would not heed any last-minute voice of reason, he pressed the verbal attack. "I've heard that the Dark Lord is a Muggleborn anyway. Doesn't seem quite honest for a 'Mudblood' to fighting for pureblood suprema-"

The incantation boiled forth from Malfoy's lips, and Neville hit the ground screaming in pain. He had anticipated the Cruciatus Curse; the signature radiated by the Dark spell the linchpin of his entire plan. However, no amount of preparation could prevent the agonizing sensation of hot knives from piercing his body, and Neville found himself begging for the pain to stop. Malfoy uttered the curse once more, and Luna was struck, her captor letting her fall to the ground in order to avoid being hexed himself. The young Death Eater's face was daemonic in the wicked green light of the curse, insane laughter boiling from his lips, ignoring the shocked cries of his companions. _Please, Merlin, let me survive this!_ Neville asked silently, seeing the blank and emotionless faces of his parents in his mind's eye. _That will not happen! I will not give in!_

"Draco, you idiot!" Nott's shrill voice offered a much needed reprieve from the pain, and Neville felt Malfoy release the spell torturing his prisoners. "You used an Unforgivable in Diagon Alley! The Aurors will be on us in moments!"

"The fool!" Another Death Eater shouted, angrily shoving Malfoy to the ground, an atmosphere of panic descending on Voldemort's assembled servants. "He tripped the wards!" Already, a heavy stillness began to descend around the group, and Neville imagined the subtle weave of Diagon Alley's magical defences drawing and contracting in response to Malfoy's spell. Despite the pain and exhaustion, he managed to cough up a chuckle, causing no few eyes to turn his way. Neville had guessed correctly that the wards monitoring Diagon Alley were passive, reactive, placed so as not to interfere with the general public. Under normal circumstances, the wards would generate no alarm or warning, simply blending in with the rest of the Alley. Cast a Dark curse however, and the enchantments would spring into action, sending a clarion call to any Auror in the vicinity.

Malfoy must have understood this, as he snapped to his troops, "Scatter! We'll regroup at Hell P-" The Death Eater's words were cut off as Neville slammed his foot into Draco's kneecap, the sudden impact sending the new Lord Malfoy to the ground. At the same moment, Aurors began to Apparate on either end of the alleyway, the mere whip-crack of their teleportation sending the Death Eaters ranks into pandemonium. Several tried to Disapparate away, only to be stymied by a barrage of Auror curses that knocked out or restrained the broken Dark wizards. The Aurors sent precise, coordinated volleys into Voldemort's servants, worried about hurting the two students but determined to prevent another massacre. The alley was crowded and narrow, a poor defensive position and one Malfoy and his goons could not escape from.

Muscles aching from the Cruciatus Curse, Neville levered himself up in time to block a hastily-thrown punch from Goyle. Pushing his battered body forward, Neville replied with a furious haymaker to the Death Eater's jaw, crumpling him like a piece of scrap tinfoil. Crabbe bullied forth to his right, but was intercepted in mid-charge by a well-placed Stunning Curse from Luna, the young Ravenclaw brandishing her stolen wand in a firm grip. "Your wand!" she cried, summoning the oaken instrument into her boyfriend's hand, turning in time to dispel an erratic hex.

"_Reducto!_" Neville's curse impacted Malfoy's chest, throwing the pureblood terrorist against the alley wall, his boots digging up columns of snow as he went. "_Stupefy!_" A second curse caught a Death Eater in the small of his back as he tried to flee. The Aurors fell upon the remaining resistance, and it was over in a matter of moments. Those Death Eaters who were not already incapacitated were seized and arrested, brought down by a combination of Luna's extensive knowledge of defensive curses and the more powerful spells of the Aurors.

All except Malfoy. As the Aurors flooded the narrow alleyway outside the Longbottom flat, the former Slytherin leader made his move. Distracted by the appearance of so many Ministry troops, Neville could do nothing as Malfoy plunged a hand into the breast pocket of his robes. The Death Eater shimmered as if a mirage, then vanished into thin air before either Neville or Luna could raise their wands. "A Portkey!" Luna exclaimed, rushing over to examine the spot where Malfoy formerly lay. "He must have prepared one beforehand, either to transport us back to his lair or as a method of escape."

Neville let himself slump to the ground, completely worn down by the events of the past ten minutes. In that time, he had been hexed, tortured and beaten black and blue. He had stared his enemy in the face and lived to tell the tale, and it was his quick thinking that sealed Malfoy's doom. The Death Eater had gotten away, but at the cost of all twelve of his associates. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did not easily accept the failures of his subordinates, and Malfoy was probably in a world of pain right now. His hands trembled with fear, imagining what would have happened if the plan had failed, imagining himself breaking under the Cruciatus Curse, just as his parents had… _Stop beating yourself up, Neville. You did it. You survived, Luna's safe…_

Then Luna's hand gently closed over his, and any remaining fears he had were instantly dispelled. Slowly but surely, the old, frightened Neville was being replaced by a much stronger version of himself, a metamorphosis to a more confident individual. "Are you alright?" he asked the young Ravenclaw, removing his coat and draping it over her shoulders. "I wanted the curse to hit me, but I never stopped to think he'd hurt you. I'm sorry about that."

Luna quivered beneath Neville's greatcoat, still shaken by the savagery and pain of Malfoy's curse. Nevertheless, she put on a brave face, breathing heavily in shock and excitement. "It's alright, brave Neville. You came up with a good plan, and you ended up stopping Malfoy from doing much worse. I think I'll be fine, though." Her thin lips broke into a sly smile as she observed the Death Eaters being carted away to the Ministry cells, the bullies that had pushed around Neville and herself for years now in the hands of the power they sought to destroy. "Well, we shall certainly have a good story to tell Harry and the others! Better than boring old Crumple-Horned Snorcacks anyway."

Neville could only laugh at that statement, and Luna's crystal-thin merriment joined in chorus as they bent to kiss each other. For Neville had beaten his enemy and won. Luna was safe, and Malfoy had been sent fleeing back to his dark master, cowed and defeated. It was his triumph, and none could take it away.

* * *

They heard his call and answered, beckoned by the promise of freedom from the oppressive grasp of the Ministry of Magic. At the same moment as Neville and Luna fought Malfoy within the narrow lanes of Diagon Alley, dozens of werewolves delved the filth-encrusted catacombs of the London sewers below. The putrid stench, bad enough for most humans but neigh-unbearable for the lycanthropes, attacked their nostrils with a vengeance. Burning with curiosity, they ignored the foul smells, pushing deeper and deeper through the bowels of the city. Their coats were tattered and patched, their faces gaunt and morose, hoarse voices whispering in disbelieving tones. Could it be that their liberation was at hand, that the brutal treatment of the Ministry would soon be over? For decades, England's werewolf community had suffered under the iron fist of the Aurors and the acid quill of the Wizengamot and no one saw any hopes of this changing. 

But then news filtered down to them of a movement determined to secure werewolf rights and end their oppression, and their hearts were filled with apprehension and delight. They greedily seized the straw offered to them, grasping the final avenue open to them. Better to seize destiny and die trying then to rot in apathy and suffering.

Within the ancient London sewer system lay an enormous chamber, built by the city architects during the Industrial Revolution where a series of sewer lines intersected. The gallery had been abandoned for decades, but in recent weeks had been refurbished by the Cabal and their new benefactors. A series of podiums had been added, while the sewer lines were diverted, draining the chamber. Hundreds of werewolves stood silently on the chamber floor, their gaze fixed to the fiery orator manning a high ledge, enthralled by his gospel of revolution. Ulric Jaeger admired the crowd with a toothy grin and at his side stood two standards, each depicting a red fang on a field of black. "I know of your suffering," he declared, his eyes sharp beneath shaggy brows. "I know that you are a proud people. I know that ever since your infection, you have been hunted and harassed like animals, treated with all the dignity of vermin. The Ministry fears and hates you, and for what? For existing? Who are they to judge you? What gives them the right to say that they are better than you are?"

A murmur of agreement spread through the throng, and Ulric seized the opportunity. "Every day, the Ministry spreads its propaganda through the media, denouncing us as monsters. We are regulated to third-class citizens as a result, with even the Squibs spitting on us. When you walk across the street, you can hear the whispers of the common herd insulting and taunting you. When you try to gain honest work, the laws of the Ministry close doors and seal off avenues of opportunity, leaving you impoverished. You live in fear of the knock on your door in the middle of the night, the sound of the Aurors coming to collect you. I have experienced these things as well. I share in the pain and humiliation you have suffered, but I have found the true path to freedom."

The buzz of conversation increased tenfold at this declaration, hundreds of voices speaking at once, full of incredulousness and a faint sense of hope. "And what is this path, Ulric?" asked an elderly werewolf near the front row, his long grey beard tucked into the belt of his robes. "We have suffered endlessly under the reign of these cattle. Please, show us the way."

"It is the way of the Cabal, my brothers and sisters," Ulric said, folding his arms across his chest. "You must embrace the transformation instead of being afraid of it and use its power to crush our enemies. The only way to obtain our freedom is to fight for it with fang and claw. Our oppressors are sheep, weak and pathetic and helpless, unable to stand against us. If we rise up, _all_ of us, then we shall have our liberty."

"What you are saying?" a whipcord-thin redhead inquired, her eyes stark with fear. "That we should revolt and throw our lives away? We would stand no chance against the Aurors. And what about these Shadow Hunters we've heard rumours about?"

"Then we shall die, drenched in the blood of our enemies before we fall," Ulric retorted. "It is better to die standing than live crawling. Our lives are so filled with misery, what horrors would death hold that we have not already seen? We will not end the tyranny of the Ministry without sacrifice."

Another werewolf spoke up, a Middle Eastern man, his face wrinkled and worn like leather parchment. "The Ministry took my daughter away from me three years ago, forced her into an orphanage after I was bitten. She did nothing wrong and they took her away! I could accept being impoverished, but this…"

"Such evils will only continue unless we put a stop to it. Believe me, I want peace between human and werewolf, but an unequal peace is no better than annihilation. We all know deep in our hearts that the Ministry plans on exterminating us. After centuries of political and social repression, it can only be the next logical step. We must destroy them before they destroy us; strike a killing blow before we are all slaughtered. And my brothers and sisters, it is not like we stand alone in this fight. I have found our people allies, glorious allies, their zeal to annihilate the Ministry just as great as our own. Some of you fear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but the Dark Lord rewards those who serve him well. Under the umbrella of the Grand Crusade, the Cabal has found the means to destroy our enemies and liberate ourselves from bondage."

"You-Know-Who!" came a voice in the throng. "He is no better than the Ministry! A terrorist!"

Ulric raised a hand to quell any further outbursts. "On the contrary, the Dark Lord is a just leader and one who realizes our importance. Besides, who declares him a terrorist but our mutual enemy? With Voldemort's aid, we shall crush the Ministry into dust, and as a loyal member of the Cabal, you shall reap the benefits. Give your loyalty to the Cabal and help us build a new world for our people."

The crowd below discussed the offer with furious vigour, though the majority of voices spoke in favour of the Cabal, despite their affiliation with Voldemort. The weeks of Cabal propaganda and the fear of wizarding oppression had played in Ulric's favour. There were a few dissenters, but this was of little concern. Ulric could easily dispose of them before they posed a threat, thanks to the support of the Death Eaters. Any of the convocation who refused to join the Cabal would be carefully monitored by Voldemort's agents and killed if they tried to speak out. Besides, after years of harsh treatment by the Ministry, he doubted that any dissident would betray them to a government who completely despised all of their kind. The charismatic old werewolf spoke again, determined to maintain the audience's focus. "If freedom means war, then kill every human in your way. The Ministry is bloated and corrupt, while we are strong, strong, strong! Let skin give way to fur and teeth to fang! Let the rage be made flesh and destroy your enemies! Victory for the Cabal!"

"_Victory!_" the crowd replied, and hundreds of fists burst upwards while hundreds of voices bellowed their support. Enchanted by the Alpha's words, werewolf after werewolf screamed their allegiance to the Cabal, only serving to fuel the fire. A blood-fever descended over the assembled werewolves, and the throng became a living thing, lashing out with animalistic fury. It was clear that Ulric would have all the support he would ever need.

* * *

In the two weeks that composed the Christmas break, Harry, Cho and Blaise worked continuously within the Room of Requirement, honing their already impressive duelling skills with wand, blade and the energies of the Founders. Their training with Stormfury complete, it was practice and drill instead of technique that they required now. The three Champions decided to leave nothing to chance, working to improve every school of duelling they knew, including the energies of the Founders, to resist the Dark Lord's next attack. 

Meanwhile, the pace of the fighting began to increase, as outbreaks of violence between the Death Eaters and the Shadow Hunter/Auror coalition reached a heightened intensity across both England and the Continent. The Aurors, now allowed to engage the enemy more proactively, took on these new duties with relish, storming Death Eater safe houses and arresting any Dark wizards they found in decisive police actions. When not aiding their lesser brethren, the Shadow Hunters made surgical, if brutal, strikes against enemy gatherings and leadership, the combined efforts of the two forces crippling Death Eater cells and weakening Voldemort's offensive capability.

By now, the strength of Voldemort's demi-human and monstrous allies had been brought to bear. Vampire and werewolf attacks multiplied tenfold throughout the country, while the giants were released on monstrous rampages into densely-populated communities. These marauders were brought down, albeit at a heavy cost in lives and property, while the Obliviators found themselves stretched to the breaking point in an attempt to maintain the secrecy of the wizarding world.

The drums of war sounded across the world, as Voldemort supporters and local defence units engaged in bitter skirmishes from France to the United States, from China to Argentina. Voldemort's dark influence was felt across oceans, across nations and cultures, while Dumbledore and the Order moved to solidify alliances between wizarding communities in response. The Order organized street patrols and community defence initiatives, delivering additional security for Muggle-born citizens and help to keep hope burning amongst the populace. With such events in mind, the Champions prepared themselves for the next great assault

Harry eyed his opponent confidently as she stood a dozen paces away, her bearing one of strength and courage, rich blond hair bound in a ponytail. Blaise Zabini drew her long, Napoleonic-era sabre, giving the curved blade a few practice strokes before taking a two-handed grip, holding at a ready stance. She was calm, her face streaked with sweat after several hours of battle practice. The Champion of Slytherin was very good, perhaps not as skilled with physical weapons, but still well-trained. Each of the Champions was capable of facing professional duellers or Aurors in a wand-based fight, and the energies of the Founders could enable them to shred apart any opposition. Unfortunately, Blaise had not yet managed to access the ancient powers of her bloodline, so she pushed herself even harder to master the other styles of wizarding combat. Pausing only to wipe her brow, the Slytherin girl lunged forward, the blunted training weapon directed towards Harry's midsection. The Champion of Gryffindor parried the attack, replying with three quick cuts of his own, impressed to see Blaise deflect each without breaking stride. "You're definitely improving," Harry exclaimed, ducking an overhead slash before driving his training broadsword towards her chest. A violent parry put him on the defensive once more, and metal clashed, each strike blocked or parried expertly, each fluid movement like a choreographed ballet.

"Still haven't beaten you yet," Blaise responded, aiming precise thrusts at vulnerable joints and limbs, hoping to draw his defence away from the upper body. Harry ignored her ploy, dancing out of strike range every time she stabbed for these regions, seeing the frustration in her eyes. She wanted to end the duel quickly, and Harry allowed himself to stay reactive in order to tire her out, allowing the Slytherin girl to maintain the initiative at the cost of her flagging stamina.

After thirty seconds, Harry struck back. Pushing forward, he launched a bewildering whirlwind of slashes and thrusts, some directed at her body while the majority were purposely sent off-target to open up a flaw in her defence. Somehow, Blaise parried or avoided all of them; her muscles burning with the effort of counter so many attacks. Wearied, her knees collapsed out from under her, and Harry charged for the winning strike. Under the sparring etiquette the Champions had established, victory occurred through first blood or if the enemy yielded, and the Champion of Gryffindor wasn't going to let up.

Harry had not reckoned, however, with the Slytherin cunning of his opponent. A single flex of her wrist caused Blaise's wand to spring from its holster and into her hand, while she shifted her body weight to the side, feeling Harry's blade brush past. "_Forca!_" she shouted, rolling away before the Gryffindor could compensate. Blue light flared at her wandtip, and a brilliant gleaming chain materialized, lashing out and wrapping itself around her opponent's ankles. A sharp tug sent Harry crashing to the floor, his sword was cast aside with a quick Banishing Curse, and the Champion of Gryffindor could barely move as Blaise held a long knife at his throat. "Had enough there, Potter?" she asked in a husky voice, straddling him beneath her long legs and pinning him in place. The Champion of Slytherin allowed herself a joyous laugh, springing back on her feet and offering a hand to her defeated opponent. "Almost got me there too, Harry. Well done!"

"I would have finished it if you hadn't cheated," Harry replied testily, trying not to whine but failing miserably. "It was with blades only, remember?"

Blaise gave a mocking pout, her ruby red lips widening into a friendly sneer as she ran her hands through Harry's curly hair, messing it up completely. "Well, you and Stormfury told me that only fools play by duelling etiquette. You shouldn't be pointing fingers at me; you should be blaming yourself for not being attentive and open to improvisation. And it's poor form to accuse a lady of cheating, you know."

Harry smiled wickedly in turn, sheathing his broadsword. "And who ever said that you were a lady?" he jested, watching her bright blue eyes widen in equal parts humour and annoyance. "Still, that was a very good move you pulled back there. You've really shown a lot of improvement, with both weapons and wands. Doubt there's a Death Eater alive that could beat you in single combat."

The Champion of Slytherin smiled, a faint, yet welcome blush spreading over her cheeks. Certainly Harry was embellishing some details, and she didn't feel confident enough to battle members of Voldemort's Inner Circle, but she appreciated the gesture all the same. "Thank you very much, Harry, it means a lot to me," she said, shaking his hand in a display of good sportsmanship. She whistled as her focus turned to another figure, admiring her prowess with the longbow. "Bloody good work, Cho! That'll put the fear of Merlin in the buggers!"

Cho let the empty quiver slid to the ground, rubbing her aching forearms to help relieve the pain. While Harry and Blaise were duelling, Cho had been busy at the opposite end of the room, sending arrow after arrow from Stormcrow into the archery target she had set up. Her shafts were well placed and accurate, forming a tight grouping that enveloped the bulls-eye in a forest of oak. The beautiful Ravenclaw stripped off her leather bracers and thumb ring, dropping to the floor exhausted. "Well, practice makes perfect, as they say. I'm still aiming about a quarter of an inch to the left though, so I'll need to compensate for that the next time I'm in the field."

"Personally, I can't seem to tell the difference," Harry told her, and it was true. He had seen Cho send an arrow straight between a Death Eater's eyes, all while her target was surrounded by furious melee. Still, he couldn't deny her desire to become even better. "Well, I think that about does it for today then. While we're still here, Blaise, could you tell us why you couldn't make it Christmas morning?"

The Slytherin girl had resisted explaining the situation to them for a few days, citing the need to get all the facts herself before briefing others. This time, however, Blaise didn't hesitate in telling her friends the story. "Malfoy and his goons have flown the coop. It must have happened right after the Yule Ball. The cretin had invited me to share drinks with him, but he never showed up. Parkinson is gone too, along with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and the rest of his stooges. Every single one left with the students going home, but none of them will be coming back."

"What makes you say that?" Cho asked, concerned about this new development. "Did you find any evidence, a reason why he would leave Hogwarts altogether?"

"He left a note," Blaise answered, and her voice began to crack, soulful blue eyes filling with tears, and Harry's heart sank, realizing what was to come. "He left a note right on my bed saying, '_I should have taken you when I had the chance._' He signed it with the Dark Mark." The barriers holding her grief collapsed, and Blaise cried softly, her exquisite features damp with her tears. Fury entered into her voice, so cold and deadly that Harry could only repress a shudder. "Malfoy was the one who attacked me earlier this year and I never even realized it! All that time, that worm was plotting behind my back, joking to his buddies how he almost…almost…" The tears burst forth in rivers, and Blaise slumped forward into Cho's waiting arms, leaning on her shoulder and weeping profusely.

Moving swiftly, Harry was at Blaise's side, rubbing her back in a comforting motion. "It's alright, Blaise, he's gone, he can't hurt you anymore," he murmured softly, conjuring a glass of water for the despondent Slytherin. "We should have known sooner about Malfoy, or at least acted on our suspicions."

"And gotten in trouble for it, thrown out of school?" Blaise demanded, eyes burning with a desire for vengeance. "Malfoy was safe in Hogwarts, but he's vulnerable on the outside now. He can't hide behind Snape's skirts now that he bears the Mark, and he'll die just like any other Death Eater. I didn't tell Dumbledore about this, I don't want the old man standing in my way when the time comes."

Harry felt rage cloud his senses as well, threatening to send the energies of Gryffindor on a rampage. Calming himself, he continued to offer reassurance, grateful that Blaise was fairly calm despite what had happened to her. "Cho and I are here for you, no matter what, so don't hesitate to come to us if you need anything. Gryffindor Tower will always be open to you."

"Ravenclaw Tower is open as well, Blaise," Cho added, gently stroking away the Slytherin girl's tears. "You don't have to be alone anymore. Whenever you feel isolated, we can help you out with that."

Blaise gave a little hiccup and settled down, her breath deepening, becoming more peaceful. "What did I ever do to deserve such great company?" she asked jokingly, the first glimmers of a smile gracing her ruby lips.

"Just being there for us, that's all," Cho replied, giving the Slytherin girl a sisterly hug. "And no woman deserves to be assaulted in such a manner. Malfoy will be held accountable, we promise."

"Thanks," Blaise said, her face growing carefree and happy once again. The girl was more capricious than Harry realized, and it was only the sudden shock of Malfoy's betrayal that put her in tears. It had torn away at her emotional armour and left it bare, but she stayed strong.

"Maybe we should call it quits for the day. I'll head down to the kitchens and have Dobby prepare us some supper. We have to make up for Christmas morning anyway!" Harry exclaimed, sending a subtle command to the Room. Stone shifted as a door materialized at the far end of the chamber, and Harry ducked through hastily, stopping himself before he was halfway through. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall," he added, continuing on.

After Harry had left, Blaise turned to Cho, barely suppressing her mirth. "He's incredible, isn't he?"

"Yes," Cho replied, placing Stormcrow back on the weapon racks before sealing the arcane talisman away from prying eyes. "It's one of the reasons I love him, you know. He's always willing to help out a friend in need, and we do consider you to be our friend, Blaise. Houses don't matter anymore, only _we_ do."

Blaise grinned from ear to ear as she asked, "So, you and Harry finally did it, huh?" Seeing the Ravenclaw girl's cheeks burn with mortification, she laughed joyfully, throwing an arm over Cho's shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed, Cho! Harry's a good man and you shouldn't have to be so annoyingly modest about it. How was it?"

"It is the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced," Cho sighed, her chocolate-brown eyes filled with peace, her lips turning up into a shy, contented smile. "He was so sweet and gentle I could have lain in bed with him forever, just feeling his arms around me. In all honesty, I almost had to force him onwards, he was so concerned for my well-being that he nearly refused, thinking I would regret it afterwards. I know that he'd do anything for me, and I would reply in turn, and that makes him so special."

"You're completely in love with him, aren't you?" Blaise inquired. "Teenagers say they're in love all the time when they meet someone, but you honestly mean it."

Cho nodded slowly, running a hand through her hair. "Yes. Sometimes I think about what will happen when I graduate from Hogwarts and head off to become a Healer, while Harry's stuck here for another year and it feels worse than the Cruciatus Curse. I want to grow old with him and have some children and live long and full lives together-"

Blaise giggled, raising her hands as if to halt her friend's exposition. "Enough already! I get it!" The young women laughed together, their beautiful voices sounding towards the rafters filled with merriment. After a few minutes, the willowy Slytherin regained her voice, stating, "Well, it's good that you've found someone who truly cares about you, Cho. There's certainly no one in Slytherin House like that. The girls are treated as nothing more than ornamentation for some of the richer purebloods, and can barely walk through the Common Room without some idiot testing a stupid pick-up line on them."

"Sounds awful," Cho said, brows furrowed in disgust. "I've encountered people like that too in Ravenclaw House, but nothing as prevalent as you've described."

"It was much worse at the Yule Ball. Malfoy ordered me to wear that dress, and I played along, hoping I could get some good information out of him. All Malfoy did was piss and moan about Harry and stare at my breasts. God, it was disgusting, him and his goons eyeing me like a piece of meat…"

"There's absolutely no excuse for what he did, Blaise," Cho declared firmly. "Don't even think of blaming yourself."

"I know, Cho," Blaise answered, squeezing Cho's hand. "When I found the note, I was just so angry, so ashamed of myself that the energies of Slytherin almost sparked."

Fear laced the Slytherin's voice so thick that Cho could only frown. "You are afraid of the magic," she said, a statement, not a question.

"Bugger, Cho, aren't you? I saw what you and Harry did to the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. Your powers managed to spark in the middle of Voldemort's attack, but mine? I can't just release it in the middle of school, Cho! It's chaotic and unpredictable, and I don't think I _could_ control it even if it did spark. Merlin, it worries me, so much power, unrestrained and unbound? I've survived in my House by being _in_ control, by directing the environment around me and finding ways to bend a situation to my will. Abandoning that idea, especially with the energies of Slytherin, could be catastrophic."

"Perhaps we could find a way to spark the energies of Slytherin in a controlled environment, if it would make you feel more comfortable with them," Cho suggested, her sharp mind already pondering the possibilities. "Harry would definitely be able to help. Maybe our pooled experience could discover a solution?"

Blaise nodded in affirmation, biting her lower lip. "Slytherin House deserves to be liberated, Cho, saved from the stupid idea that we all have to be Death Eaters whether we want to or not. To do that, we need to defeat Voldemort, and I'm not willing to simply spark in battle and pray to Merlin I survive. This weapon needs to be controlled if it is to be effective, and I need your help to do it."

"Of course we'll help, Blaise. You deserve our aid more than anyone in the world. Harry and I would be happy to assist you," Cho assured the Slytherin girl, a storm of ideas thundering in her brain, each new solution criss-crossing her mind like lightning. With the combined efforts of Harry, Blaise and herself unified in a single purpose, the solution would be uncovered swiftly.

* * *

As the grand convocation of lycanthropes broke up and dissolved into smaller groups, all having committed themselves to the Cabal and the Grand Crusade, Ulric Jaeger trudged through the grim-encrusted sewer channels, a feeling of elation evident on his aging visage. Oblivious to the foul stench that burned his sensitive nostrils or the filth that clung to his ankles and threatened to bog him down, the werewolf Alpha felt more secure about victory then he had since he embarked upon his goal of revolution. A joyous laugh rumbled from his throat, and Ulric barely repressed the desire to shake his fist at the surface and mock the bloated Ministry that had brutalized his kin for centuries. _Patience, patience. Our time will come soon._

His hatred for the humans burned hot in his veins, and Ulric made no effort to suppress it. Born in the lowest and dirtiest slums of Knockturn Alley to a crippled female werewolf, Ulric had drunk of his mother's milk and hatred in equal measure. His birth had taken its toll on the poor woman, and Ulric found himself placed in the caregiver role at a very young age. His father was a lycanthrope as well, a political activist fighting for werewolf rights, constantly petitioning the Ministry to enact some kind of reform. When Ulric was only three, a series of bloody riots broke out within Knockturn Alley as the dredges of wizarding England rose up against their government in an orgy of violence, threatening to spill out into the more prosperous Diagon Alley and the Gringotts District. They were the poor, the abandoned, the destitute, those the corrupt magocrats of the Ministry of Magic had long since discarded, and after years of segregation and social disenfranchisement, their anger exploded with a vengeance. The elder Jaeger died throwing himself between the mob and the full battalion of Aurors sent to crush the violence, pleading for peace and dialogue between the two factions. Whether the rioters tore him to shreds or the Aurors blasted him to pieces, Ulric wasn't entirely certain. Regardless, the crazed mobs that destroyed much of Knockturn Alley were brutally suppressed by the Auror troops, many of whom hardened veterans of the conflict against Grindelwald. The Ministry promptly rounded up all leadership figures in the riots then pretended the incident never happened. Knockturn Alley found itself even more isolated than before, and conditions worsened with the first reign of Voldemort and the spread of the Dark Arts into the community. Ulric's mother never recovered after the riots, the sickly old woman dying in agony as a result of an outbreak of Dragon Pox, the wondrous vaccine developed by St. Mungo's never available to those the Ministry considered "secondary-priority." Hunger, disease and death were all that Ulric ever knew, and the young werewolf was intelligent enough to understand who was responsible.

For the next twenty years of his life, Ulric was the lowest of the low as both a lycanthrope and one of the impoverished masses. Whatever magical talent he might have possessed atrophied after his entrance to Hogwarts was denied, and finding employment was a daily struggle. And for each and every day that this condition persisted, his hatred for "normal" humans fermented and boiled within him, becoming the most lethal of concoctions. Frustration replaced hope and anger overturned reason, turning Ulric Jaeger from a human being of great emotional and intellectual potential into the most deadly of monsters. A being hardened by cruelty, tempered by injustice, willing to lash out against anyone to seen to be remotely responsible for his position and having nothing left to lose.

At first, he was alone, but he soon found others like him. There were others out there on the fringes of wizarding society, tired of being looked down upon and shoved into the dirt. First among them was Fenrir Greyback, a charismatic figure who called to Ulric and his like-minded brethren, offering a potential solution for their problems. The key to achieving freedom from the Ministry was not to hide from their lycanthrope condition, but to embrace it and use its power to force the state to offer concessions. Make a strong enough statement, create enough corpses or infected children to prove your point, and the Ministry would have no choice to give in to their demands. Ulric was one of the first to accept, and thus the Cabal was born, an organization dedicated to freeing the werewolves of the wizarding world by any means necessary. Ulric became the Omega, the prime hunter of the pack and Greyback's second in command, benefiting from all the privileges that it entailed, including his choice of the group's females and the spoils found from their victims.

Ulric gave a toothy grin when he thought of Greyback. The old werewolf had a lot of fight in him, but his lieutenant eventually bested him during the Rite of the Fang, the challenge of leadership under Cabal law. The doctrine that Fenrir established stated that only the strongest of the pack could hold the position of Alpha, and Ulric had long since tired of his leader's inability to bring about the insurrection they so desired. He had gained more than his fair share of scars that day and displayed each with pride before his pack-mates. After the rousing support the Cabal received today, he was certain that he would succeed where Fenrir would not. The old werewolf imagined himself as the master of every werewolf on the planet, the saviour of their species leading them to their own Promised Land. Already, Ulric imagined the fates he had in store for that fat fool Fudge and his administrative tyrant Dolores Umbridge. The latter would receive the harshest punishment as the architect of the new, even more repressive anti-werewolf legislation, as was only fitting. Any vestiges of mercy and compassion that remained had been burned away years ago, and the Cabal would make that _thing_ pay dearly for her crimes.

Ulric was so totally engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't know the intruder was there until the tip of his wand touched the small of his back. "Turn around, Ulric," snapped an infuriatingly familiar voice, the scent of self-righteousness thicker and more repulsive than the odour of sewage that filled the catacombs.

"Lupin," Ulric snarled, his fists clenching with anger beneath his sleeves. Slowly, he turned to face his opponent. Remus Lupin stood not five paces ahead of him, the former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pointing his wand straight at the werewolf revolutionary's heart. Lupin's robes were in awful condition, tattered and stained with filth, but he held himself with pride and dignity, his eyes holding only bitterness for Voldemort's ally. "Perhaps I should have made the Death Eaters check the audience before I left."

"Another one of the mistakes you've made today, the second swearing yourself to Voldemort's service," Lupin replied, his voice cool and professional, the years of service as one of the Order giving him the courage to face the larger werewolf. "Give me your wand."

The bitterness in the Alpha's voice could not be disguised. "I never could do magic, you know. The meddling old bastard Dumbledore didn't deign to give me the opportunities he offered you, so I must now rely upon the transformation to free our people."

"Is that what this is, Ulric?" Lupin demanded angrily, his composure starting to crack. "Freedom? All I see is a murderer selling out his own people to the Dark Lord. Voldemort doesn't make deals or accept alliances, all he does is conquers."

"Just like the Ministry?"

Lupin held his tongue, face flushed with anger. Fifteen years earlier in the wake of Voldemort's first defeat, Ulric had tried to recruit the younger Lupin, hoping to bring the grief-stricken and disaffected lycanthrope into the fold. Saddened by the deaths of James and Lily, and by Sirius' supposed treachery, Lupin refused, not wishing to betray his friends' memories. In hindsight, Remus was too enthralled by his human side to be a dependable fighter of the Cabal, despite his anger at bigoted Ministry policy. Even now, Ulric could see the loathing reflected in Lupin's eyes, motivated by the most disgusting aspect of the human mind, _compassion_. No, Dumbledore's pet werewolf was too soft to seize the destiny Voldemort offered, and the Grand Crusade offered no middle ground between those who served the Dark Lord and those who opposed him.

"I've sent for the Aurors, Ulric," Lupin spoke once more, overcoming the Alpha's attempts to rile him up. "Now then, what has Voldemort promised you in return for your service? Besides the usual nonsense of independence and freedom."

"Freedom is never nonsense, Lupin, even when it comes from one such as the Dark Lord. He has his uses, and we've agreed to honour the pact until our objectives are complete. At first, I was reluctant to ask for his aid, I thought we could destroy the Ministry ourselves and then deal with the Death Eaters as I saw fit. But the Dark Lord promised us something, something with enough power to shatter the Ministry of Magic forever."

"Enough hyperbole. What made you accept?"

Ulric's eyes misted over, and Lupin felt his blood freeze in his veins at his next words. "Why, the children, of course! All those delicious little students you had over at Hogwarts. Greyback was a fool and a weakling, but he had the right idea. All those young students infected with lycanthropy and turned just as we were, the wizarding world would be devastated. An entire generation of werewolves instead of wizards! With that, our victory would be totally assured. Even if the Dark Lord fails, within a few years, the humans would be outnumbered so thoroughly that they would not be able to resist us." The Alpha werewolf laughed cruelly, seeing the anger boiling up in his erstwhile foe. "A few kids die so that an entire species can live. That's what I'd call a fair trade."

Golden eyes widened in anticipation as Lupin charged, abandoning his vast catalogue of spells and techniques for an enraged blow. Ulric had been waiting for such a hot-headed move and quickly darted to the side, striking the werewolf moderate in the gut. Snarling with glee, Ulric struck Remus hard, once, twice, thrice, leaving his foe bruised, battered and cast into the runoff. "Looks like you're going to need some new robes, Remus," he cackled, snatching the man's wand. Toying with the wooden instrument for a few moments, he pitched it over his shoulder whilst a booted foot slammed into Lupin's back. "You really should have reconsidered my offer all those years ago. You could have been powerful, respected, feared by the entire wizarding world, but abandoned your people for Dumbledore and those Potters you were so fond of. And look at you now! Given the choice to use your wand, you still decide to fight it out hand-to-hand. Perhaps there is some hope left for you after all."

Remus groaned in pain, trying to drag himself back up, but Ulric kicked him once more, ending his defiance. "I don't like killing my own people unless I have to, so consider this your last warning. The door is open to you, for now, but stand against the Cabal again and I shall have no choice but to kill you," declared the Alpha werewolf. "In the meantime, run back to that doddering old fool Dumbledore, tail between your legs, and tell him that my people are not his possessions. The Grand Crusade beckons us and none may defy its call."

As Ulric stalked away, he tossed Lupin's wand back to his battered form. "And next time, Lupin, stick with what you know best." His teeth bared in a feral grin, Ulric left the catacombs to the Aurors and his domesticated counterpart, secure in the knowledge that the frail humans would never be able to track him through the dank tunnels. His pack waited within Hell Pit, and the Alpha could not wait to meet them.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Fudge addresses a nation while the energies of Slytherin are unleashed!_


	24. State of the Union

**Chapter 24: State of the Union**

The long slumber of Hogwarts was over. Like a great bear shaking off the effects of hibernation, so too did the school rouse itself from the peaceful holidays to greet the new semester. The Hogwarts Express sent dark clouds of smoke billowing into the crisp blue sky at it neared the station, hundreds of eager students disembarking and crowding the local platform. From small outposts lining the main road, Aurors and Shadow Hunters watched the column of school carriages ascend up the hill, watching for any threats that might harm the school. In the confusion of war, the presence of Hogwarts afforded stability both to the students and the general public, the venerated institution a stoic bulwark against the forces of darkness. Cho Chang breathed in the crisp winter air, sighing as she observed the grounds from atop the Astronomy Tower. "Hogwarts is so beautiful this time of year," she declared, tucking a lock of raven-black hair behind her ear.

"It's wonderful no matter what the season," Harry Potter replied, letting Cho's head gently rest upon his shoulder. The Astronomy Tower was draughty on the best of days, but midwinter made the bastion as porous as a sieve. Both Champions stoically endured, maintaining their vigil as if waiting for the Death Eaters to attack. "Perfect Quidditch weather today. No wind, not terribly cold, excellent flying conditions."

Cho smiled, kissing Harry on the cheek. "But where's the fun in flying in those conditions, my love? Why not a great summer storm with gale-force winds to make it more of a challenge?"

"Because I'd never be able to beat you if that was the case," Harry answered, inciting laughter from the beautiful Ravenclaw. "And I do intend to win the Quidditch Final, so fair weather would be very handy."

"Wimp," Cho teased him. "Well, you'd best get practicing, Mr. Potter. With the new Firebolt, we're on an equal playing field. It should be quite a match, right?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry said, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close, the heat of her body lulling him into a state of relaxation. Over the two weeks of the Christmas break, barely a minute went by where Harry and Cho were not together, whether duelling in the Room of Requirement, studying in the library or just enjoying each other's company. His mind drifted back to their frequent bouts of lovemaking and he sighed in pleasure. He loved Cho above all else and he knew she felt the same way. Just like at the beginning of the new term, they would find themselves thrust once more into conflicting schedules and the prying eyes of the teachers. Regardless, they could sort it out. They always had before and this would be no different.

Harry gently kissed her smooth cheeks, catching the wondrous lilac scent of her hair. He had imagined that these simple actions would be insignificant after the first night of coupling, but they still brought the glow of pleasure in Cho's eyes. "I've sent a few letters to Hermione and the others; they'll be meeting in the Great Hall by now. With all the attacks, I thought it might be necessary to discuss the future of the Army, see what we can do in response."

"An excellent plan," Cho replied, accompanying Harry down the tower stairs. "We're victims of our own success, Harry. Every day I hear from students who want to join us, but we simply don't have the capacity to manage such a large group. We're approaching our operational limit as it is with three sessions every week, and we can't teach every single Marauder without burning ourselves out, especially when we consider how many other activities we are undertaking."

"Maybe Stormfury and the Order could help us?" Harry postulated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We could certainly do with additional supplies, teaching material and whatnot."

Cho considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "It would help in the short term, but the problem would still be there. We need to delegate more and maybe split our lone training group into several, each group practicing at a different time. That would help spread the burden around, and maybe give the veterans some leadership experience in addition."

Harry frowned, understanding his girlfriend's point, but still resistant to the idea of dividing up the group, even if just for practice sessions. "I've always tried to make the Army of the Marauders a community, Cho. I wanted everyone to feel accepted, and separating the group might hurt that goal."

"Well, how about a compromise, then?" Cho suggested. "Once a week, the entire Army meets for discussion and as a general practice session. The rest of the week, they are divided up into their respective groups for instruction. Maybe the unified Army meeting could have a small duelling tournament with representatives from each squad, encourage them to push themselves further."

"Sounds good," Harry said, throwing in a further suggestion. "Although we would have to break up the students from each House to prevent House lines from forming, just as we have before."

The two Champions stepped into the second floor corridor, waving to Professor Flitwick as approached, the diminutive Charms teacher levitating a parcel of dust-covered scrolls, urging the bundle along like a rancher coaxing a troublesome bullock. Nearly-Headless Nick floated past, complimenting Cho on her lovely hair before swooping over a group of second-years, shouting welcomes. Hogwarts felt more alive than it had been in months, the very air singing with energy. Harry had heard rumours that the castle itself had taken on some semblance of life and sentience over the centuries, the random movement of the staircases and such were driven by a basic intelligence. Until now, the young Gryffindor had never really given such idea credence. The ancient sandstone walls of Hogwarts seemed to be seeped with magic and Harry felt a sudden desire to investigate every hall and chamber and probe their mysteries. The Chamber of Secrets had lain undisturbed and hidden for nearly a thousand years before Riddle opened it. Who knew what other wonders and dangers remained locked and barred beyond the well-trod corridors? It astonished Harry how the other students could go about their daily business unaware of the possibilities.

To some extent, Harry understood why. The majority of spells used by the population of Wizarding Britain had been conceived and created hundreds of years earlier. Occasionally, a brilliant wizard like Dumbledore managed to uncover something new, or improve an existing enchantment or potion, but for the most part, wizards and witches used the same techniques their forebears did. While magical research continued to be undertaken to this day, much of this discovery never had any significant impact on the general public. Many witches and wizards never truly experienced their full potential, content to let their abilities atrophy and decay, lulled into a false sense of security and unwilling to push the boundaries any further. It was certainly tempting to blame Ministry bureaucracy as the sole source of this problem, but there was more to it than that. Magic had almost become a racial trait rather than ability; a wizard defined more by what pumped through his veins than what he actually did with that power. Their people had become stagnate, and nothing was worse in an ever-changing world. _No wonder we've fallen so far_, Harry thought to himself.

Still, there were glimmers of hope to be found. The followers of Gaea had practiced an entirely different sphere of magical arts while great success, while the Army of the Marauders took it upon themselves to keep improving, to become wiser, stronger and more creative with their magic. Regardless, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that something was very wrong with the way witches and wizards used their powers, and the problem was only going to get worse.

As the two Champions descended the steps of the Entrance Hall, Harry cringed in shock upon seeing the first of his friends. "Merlin's beard, Neville, what happened to you?"

"Met a certain white rat outside my Gran's flat," Neville Longbottom replied, his voice filled with an undertone of strength and boldness that Harry had never heard in the normally shy Gryffindor. Bruises and cuts scourged Neville's full visage, quite literally leaving him black and blue. Pressing a large ice pack against his cheek, he continued on with his tale. "Malfoy and a group of the Slytherins ambushed me and Luna over the holidays in Diagon Alley. They were planning on murdering and leaving us for the authorities to find, but we managed to fight them off."

"It's true," Luna added, taking Neville's arm in her own. A thin gold necklace hung side by side with her bottlecap ornamentation, the former a present from Neville himself. "Neville was very brave facing up to Malfoy and his gang. He even took a Cruciatus Curse and didn't back down. Without it, we probably wouldn't have made it out." Her pretty silver eyes flashed bright with pride, and Harry realized that something major had changed between them, an unseen barrier broken that left the two closer than ever.

Cho gasped, moving to examine Neville's battered face. "Malfoy used an Unforgivable on you?" she inquired, equal parts astonished at the use of the Unforgivable and impressed at Neville's fortitude. "Any permanent damage?"

"No, thank Merlin," Neville intoned, a flicker of fear passing over his face. "It hurt so bad I almost wanted to give up and die, but the Healers at St. Mungo's said I would be okay." His hands trembled, and Harry saw Luna give him a comforting squeeze, calming him down. "I wouldn't wish that sort of spell on anyone, not even Malfoy."

An image of Neville's parents under the Cruciatus flashed in his mind's eye, and Harry moved to change the subject. _No need to upset him any further_. Besides, Neville's story seemed to fit in with Blaise's earlier news and Harry wanted all the details he could get. "Any idea what Malfoy was doing there?"

"He was targeting us specifically, that's for sure," Neville answered. "He attacked us just as we got to my Gran's flat, him and the rest of his bullies. Nearly every single one of his goons was there to back him up, about a dozen in total."

"Neville managed to trick him into setting off the local wards," added Luna, relating the tale in an awed whisper. "The Aurors appeared almost immediately and helped us fight Malfoy off, and all of his followers were taken as prisoners. Malfoy won't find any comfort back with You-Know-Who, not after that incident."

Cho laughed at the news, patting Neville and Luna on the back. "Well done, both of you. I'm so glad you're safe after all that. Next time Malfoy won't be so disdainful of you, will he Neville?"

"The next time I see him, I'm taking his head off," Neville answered, clenching his fists in anger. "But thanks for the compliment anyway. By the way, Harry, Susan's been wondering if you heard about the big speech Fudge is going to make tonight."

"No, I didn't," Harry said, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Like most of the Army of the Marauders, Susan Bones hated how the country was being run under the control of Fudge and his cronies. Her aunt, Amelia Bones, Head of the Auror Office, was rumoured to be a solid critic of the current Minister and Susan seemed to share the same political values. Why on earth would she be interested in another of Fudge's self-congratulatory speeches? "Why does she ask?"

The newly-emboldened Gryffindor shrugged. "She says that listening to the address might do us some good, and she wants the most experienced Marauders to be there as well. Other than that, she hasn't really told us."

Harry frowned with displeasure. The Hufflepuff was usually very reliable and had proven her worth on numerous occasions, so this seemed very uncharacteristic of her. Still, he had intended on hosting a meeting of the Army of the Marauders anyway and it wouldn't be much of a problem to alter the original plan. "Alright then. Neville, once you and Luna have finished settling in, tell Susan to meet us in the Room of Requirement at seven. It's a veterans-only meeting, so I want the two of you to be there as well."

"Us, Harry?" Luna looked even more surprised than usual at this proclamation. "Honestly, I don't think we're deserving of that title."

Harry snorted in exasperation. "Of course you are, Luna. You've done well during the training sessions and know most of my secrets. Why shouldn't you be included?"

"Besides," Cho added, her voice becoming harsh as stone, "you have the combat experience needed to teach other students, and anyone who can hold their own against a dozen Death Eaters, even for a few moments, deserves to be considered some of our best. No arguing, either of you. The meeting tonight is for the most experienced and powerful Marauders, and you had better be there. Understand?"

Neville's jaw dropped, then closed with a snap. A slow grin passed over his features as he replied, "Well, sure thing then. We will meet you in the Room of Requirement tonight. Apparently, Fudge's big speech starts at eight, so we'll have plenty of time."

"Good," Harry said. "Cho and I are considering breaking the Army of the Marauders into smaller units for training, and we'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Do you think you could act as tutors for some of the younger students?"

"We shall do our utmost to help," Luna stated, hoisting her bags on her shoulder. "Regardless, it's nice to see you two in good spirits. I hope you didn't lose too much sleep over the holidays."

Harry paled, sputtering nervously; shocked that Luna would be so bold. _She knew!_ he cried mentally, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. How could Luna have figured out about his newfound experiences with Cho? Maybe it was the way their eyes light up with pleasure as they held hands, or the warm, soft infliction that had underwritten their voices since that glorious night. Given the way that Harry stared at his lover, it was foolish to think that they'd be able to keep their coupling a secret for long. Still, it wasn't in Harry's nature to boast about such matters, and he hadn't intended on telling his friends out of respect for the beautiful Ravenclaw's privacy.

The Champion of Gryffindor was about to say something utterly tactless in response until Cho closed her hand over his. "Well, the holidays were certainly eventful. You two should get inside and warm yourselves up, no use loitering out in the cold. We'll meet up with you later," Cho instructed, giving Luna a sisterly hug. "It's good to see you still safe."

As Neville and Luna took their luggage up the sandstone stairs, Harry shook his head in amazement. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag now. How on Earth did Luna manage to figure it out?"

"She has always been perceptive, Harry," Cho answered, her curved lips turning up in happiness. "And it's good that they brought it to our attention. It appears that Blaise is correct; Malfoy has openly joined the Death Eaters, though I imagine that Voldemort will be very displeased with his new servant at this point."

"If Malfoy is the best recruit Voldemort's managed to acquire from Hogwarts, then he's in more trouble than we thought," Harry stated, stroking his chin in his musings. "I've invited Blaise to the meeting too, we could use her expertise regarding the Slytherins, figure out what we're going to do next."

"A good suggestion," came Cho's response. "That was very decent of you, Harry, bringing Neville and Luna into the meeting. It will probably do wonders for their self-esteem, though they are powerful enough regardless."

Harry smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, Cho. Honestly though, I didn't really think about how inviting Neville would make him feel better about himself. Beating Malfoy has done more for his self-confidence than anything I could do. And you're right; they are both skilled enough to teach the other students. That look they gave themselves, do you think-?"

"It's entirely possible," the beautiful Ravenclaw consider, smiling widely with her lover. "We shouldn't pry though. If Neville or Luna desire to tell us anything, they should do so on their own terms rather than being pressured."

A squeal of joy sounded at the edge of his hearing, and Harry grinned broadly. "Well, Ron and Hermione look happy enough," he said, laughing at Ron's return-to-school scowl. "Hope their holiday was as good as ours!"

"You go on ahead, Harry," Cho directed him, gently caressing his cheek. "I should check in with Avalon, we're going to need her if the energies of Slytherin are to spark safely."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, concerned that she felt nervous or unsure around the presence of his other friends. Cho was an important part of his life and she couldn't be segregated off from Ron and Hermione, stuffed in a separate corner and kept completely distinct from them. "Hermione would enjoy seeing you again, I'm certain."

Cho smiled, an almost wistful, longing expression. "I'm sure she would, darling, but we need to confirm if Avalon is going to help us with Blaise. She should have come to a decision by now. Would you say hello to Ron and Hermione for me though?"

Harry nodded, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Cho replied with equal tenderness, sighing as the young Gryffindor gently stroked her hair. "Remember that you can always talk to me if you have a problem," he whispered, holding her close for a moment.

"I know, Harry, and thank you. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?" Gracefully, Cho exited the Entrance Hall, her long, shimmering black hair cascading down her shoulders, stray locks framing her serious, delicate face. Harry watched her go before turning back to Ron and Hermione, the weight of all his trials settling on his bones and making him feel old beyond his years. Physically and magically, the Champion of Gryffindor was at his peak. Emotionally, he was worn down from the constant pressure resulting from the war, torn between multiple responsibilities and his desire to end the conflict. The horrors he had seen still played on the young man's mind, made all the more vicious by the bloodlust that overwhelmed him through the magic. When danger struck and the thoughts of battle loomed, the normally considerate and amiable Gryffindor devolved into a fearsome berserker, disregarding all fear or threat of death, as well as the safety of those he cared about. It terrified Harry that he might accidentally harm Cho or one of his friends, and the seductive properties of the energies meant that he would not even register such a tragedy until they had quelled. All these lay heavy at his breast, and until the war was successfully concluded, it would remain so.

And if Harry had felt these demands, it was assured that Cho was burdened by them as well. The Champion of Ravenclaw decided to fight out of her own free will without the threat of two prophecies driving her on, acknowledging the dangers involved and the demands expected of her. In a way, she was more committed to the struggle than Harry would ever be, as he had the Prophecies to fall back on if he felt dispirited or weak, an option that the elegant Chinese girl was denied. She was strong despite all the challenges thrown against her, despite the terrors she had witnessed and the horrors inflicted. Holding her close at night as the sheets enveloped them; Harry occasionally felt her lithe body quake with sobs, diamond tears streaking her lovely face as nightmares of Malfoy's assault invaded her psyche. Barbs of pain dug into Harry's heart whenever he saw her like this, and his attempts to console her were fairly successful. He doubted she would forget that event for some time, but at least she was moving past it. Yet, if anything, the Champion of Gryffindor had long since seen her lover's independent, determined personality, and he knew she would survive this. Cho was a warrior-maiden born, a cunning engine of destruction in battle and a brilliant academic in peace. Fighter, intellectual, sorceress, friend, peacemaker, Healer and lover, she acted in a variety of roles, all projecting a deep inner beauty at Harry found entirely irresistible.

Recently though, Cho had seemed somewhat distant and unresponsive. Their training had gone as effectively as ever, their relaxation was not disrupted and their lovemaking remained unaffected, but Harry sensed that she was troubled by something, a vague discontent that left her uneasy and downcast. _Is it our relationship?_ Harry wondered, concerned that their growing sexual understanding might be alienating her. There were a dozen possible factors that might be contributing to her uneasiness, the cause Harry was determined to discover. He did not regret anything they had done together, but the thought that he may have hurt her accidentally burned in his brain like a cancer, filling him with doubt.

In all his young life, Harry had never met anyone like Cho Chang, and could certainly never think of being with any other girl. Due to virtue of her own powers, she understood and related to him better than most people, and was always willing to lend a helping hand when he needed it. Cho made his soul feel liberated, away from all the petty gossip and rivalries of Hogwarts and the destructive impulses of the war. Whether it was discussing class content or their favourite books or expressing their emotions in the most physical form, Harry felt completely at ease in her presence, awed by the critical keenness of her mind, the supple curves of her body and the compassionate depths of her soul. Harry and Cho were joined together immutably by their love and respect, a bond stronger than the words of any priest, and their love could only grow even greater over time. Hence the need to solve the as-yet unknown problem. The Ravenclaw beauty had given Harry a great deal of emotional support over the past six months, and it was time to aid her back.

* * *

After departing from the Entrance Hall, Cho entered the Hogwarts Grand Staircase, the senses flooded with the majestic sights before her. Most of the Hogwarts students had already returned, and the hallways teemed with excited children, many conversing with the enchanted paintings. The ancient staircases groaned, shifting position to the demands of the castle, granting the beautiful Ravenclaw passage towards the fifth floor and the North Tower. Cho's dark almond eyes caught a glimpse of Filch sulking down the corridor, muttering darkly to himself at the mess he would have to clean. One might think that the war might not have even existed, given the way that the students went about their business seemingly unconcerned with the events of the outside world. The school seemed to be frozen in time, encased and shielded from the raging conflict like a mansion painted in oils. Cho was more than slightly disturbed by this fact, frowning slightly as she journeyed towards her eventual destination. _Can these kids just shrug off the war that easily? Can they continue to ignore the evil that has already touched our doorstep?_ Part of her knew that they were just children and it wasn't healthy for them to overly focus on the war, but this carefree approach had its limits. Voldemort wasn't going to go away if they just closed their eyes, and they would eventually need to prepare for the day when they face him. Tragedies could be accepted and worked past, but never fully forgotten.

Cho frowned, somewhat surprised at her grim disposition. The tranquility and sense of unity that had governed her affairs since the Yule Ball had been disrupted by the student's return, thrusting her back into the often-chaotic environment of Hogwarts. She loved the school and loved what they taught, but the beautiful Ravenclaw could certainly do without the constant gossip and inane political squabbles that were a hallmark of Hogwarts social atmosphere. Even so, her vision of the Hogwarts that existed during the Founders' time demonstrated that such childish behaviour had been common in the school, and not much had changed in that regard. She certainly wasn't ashamed of Harry or what they had accomplished or done together, but having everyone and their second cousin discussing their sex life was both insulting and unwarranted. While it was acceptable that a close circle of friends knew about their experiences, she could live without the entire student body knowing.

_Does Harry feel the same way?_ Cho mentally inquired. By all accounts, the two were in agreement on the matter; Harry's reaction to Luna's probing was enough evidence. She knew of men who bragged about their sexual experiences, like boasting of killing a dragon with a toothpick, but Harry was more honourable than that. She doubted Ron and Hermione would be kept in the dark for long, but that was acceptable, given the strong bonds between the trio. It would be unfair of Harry to keep secrets from his best friends, and he needed that other emotional refuge to turn to. Openness and honesty was the core of their relationship, but even so, the two Champions needed a small part of themselves to call their own.

Cho gave a sensual, thrilling sigh, her warm almond eyes closing as she remembered that first night with Harry. Both wizarding and Muggle society alike had a biased, unhealthy attitude towards sex; and for a woman to enjoy the experience was taken a sign of immorality more often than not. For the brilliant Ravenclaw, their coupling was far more than physical in nature, taking on spiritual, almost nirvanic dynamics. She loved Harry and the pair used several methods of contraception, so none had the right to question their actions.

Entering the fifth-floor hallway, Cho found Ginny Weasley waiting for her, her erstwhile rival dressed in the uniform of Gryffindor House, scarlet locks hastily pinned into a messy bun. "Hello, Ginny," Cho greeted the fifth-year, trying to keep her tone friendly, to varying degrees of success. "I'm afraid I didn't catch you at the Entrance Hall, otherwise I would have said hello."

"It's okay," Gunny whispered, and the normally bold Gryffindor girl seemed to shrink in the face of Cho's kind inquiries. Taking several deep breaths for reassurance, Ginny raised her head high, auburn eyes meeting Cho's chocolate-brown ones. "I know this might come at a later juncture, but I just wanted to apologize for my earlier behaviour, for the things I said and did."

Surprise emerged on her elegant features, and Cho fought hard to maintain a professional demeanour. Although Ginny's admission of regret was welcome, the beautiful Ravenclaw wondered what had caused her to come forth. "Go on," she said, listening intently.

"Harry means a lot to me, Cho, and I say that in all honesty I would never wish any harm upon him. When Sirius died, I saw him looking more defeated than he had before in his life. It hurt to see him in such dire straits, and I just didn't want him to get hurt again."

"What made you think I was going to hurt him?"

Ginny looked slightly aghast at the question. "Your earlier attempt at a relationship with Harry was an unmitigated disaster, if I may be plain. Needless to say, I had a solid precedent on which to base my dislike." The fiery Gryffindor's mouth snapped shut, a flicker of regret passing over her eyes. "Still, what I said about you was inappropriate. You've been a good friend to Harry and more, something that he really deserves after all he's been through. I'm sorry."

Cho was silent for a moment, analysing this sudden confession. "Why have you told me this now?" she asked empathically. "Harry and I have tried to make you understand for months now to no success. I really appreciate that you are being so honest, but what changed your mind?"

"All this time I was trying to defend Harry and help him make it through the war, but the more I thought about it, the more my actions became a problem. The problem was getting worse instead of better, and my involvement only stressed him more. Besides, you turned out to be a good person after all, so I had no reason to treat you that way." Ginny's head drooped in shame, her curved shoulders trembling with suppressed grief and self-hatred. The mask cracked and she sobbed quietly, murmuring excuses as the tears flowed. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I swear…"

Instantly, Cho considered that this might be a clever ploy designed to appeal to her emotions, but discarded the possibility upon closer inspection. Ginny _did_ care, and that made her actions even more of a failure in her eyes. A caring hand fell on the Gryffindor's shoulder, and Cho spoke in a calm tone, trying to settle the girl down. "Ginny, I really appreciate that you've come forward to apologize like this, it is exceptionally brave of you. I accept your apology."

Ginny gave a little hiccup, pale, resilient features bathed in tears. "And Harry?"

"Harry wants you back even more than I do, Ginny. He's been worried about you and doesn't want to see your friendship fall apart. Believe me; he holds no grudges against you."

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny whispered, wiping her face with a woollen sleeve. "After everything I did, why help me now?"

"Each of us has a maggot in our pasts that could potentially endanger our future. Harry was generous enough to look past our former history and I replied in turn, so it would be unfair of me to deny you the opportunity to set things right." Cho's coral pink lips turned up mischievously. "And to be perfectly honest, trying to seduce my boyfriend is an act I _might_ be able to look past, but beating me in Quidditch is entirely unforgivable. We'll work on resolving that in due time."

Barely-repressed chuckles met her statement. "Eager for a rematch, huh? Maybe I can remedy that."

"You'll have to borrow Harry's Firebolt to make it even," Cho added. "Removes the technological factor out of any victory, ensures it is based solely on skill."

Ginny made a disbelieving sound, her jaw dropping as she realized that Cho wasn't fooling around. "Harry got you a Firebolt for Christmas? He certainly has taste, in broomsticks at least."

The young women laughed, heading off down the corridor side by side. Like two hungry wolves pacing around and trying to determine the other's intentions, Cho and Ginny engaged in some verbal sparring, both girls starting to relax and open up after a few minutes. The barriers of envy and mutual dislike were being taken down, piece by piece, an outcome Cho genuinely desired. Ginny was a fairly powerful witch and had some actual combat experience against the Death Eaters, making her an ideal group leader for the Army of the Marauders. Beyond tactical considerations, she was at heart a good person, generous to her peers and devoted to her friends. Even though the two had been at loggerheads since the beginning of the school year, Cho felt she could trust Ginny to an extent. Barely five minutes had passed and they were establishing a solid dialogue, she could only imagine what the rest of the year would do.

"So," Ginny asked, a wayward scarlet lock brushing the Prefect badge upon her breast, "What have you and Harry been up to lately? I'd expect that you'd be meeting the others down in the Entrance Hall, so I'm a bit confused as to what you're doing into a deserted hall while there's so much excitement and life downstairs?"

Cho paused to take a quick glance down the corridor, wary of any unwanted ears that might be snooping in. The persistence of rumours could be both a general annoyance and a security risk, and she knew many of the Slytherins would be all too happy to report anything sensitive to Voldemort. "Harry has told you about the Prophecies and the girl Blaise, right?"

"Yes, apparently she's the Champion of Slytherin, or that's how Harry tells it."

"Well, Harry, Blaise and I have been working on a little project in our spare time. During the Battle of Hogsmeade, Harry and I managed to unlock the energies of the Founders and now we can use that power more or less as we see fit. Unfortunately, Blaise has been having trouble sparking, that's the term we use for it, so we're thinking of giving her a little push in the right direction.

"Now then," Cho continued, detailing the situation, "Harry spends several nights a week working with his Occlumancy tutor, and he's become skilled enough that we might be able to try some basic Legilimency to try and help Blaise overcome her mental blocks. The energies of the Founders are fuelled by strong emotions, you must truly _want_ to use the magic or else it remains dormant. I was just on my way to see Harry's tutor now, make sure she approves of the plan."

"Mind if I come with you?" Ginny posed. "There's not much to do until the Marauders meeting anyway."

Cho shrugged carelessly. "I don't suppose she would mind, but keep in mind that she's quiet different from any of the salaried teachers here. Don't be shocked when you see her." The beautiful Ravenclaw increased her stride, crossing the last few feet to the door of the North Tower. "Here we are."

Ascending up the staircase, Cho and Ginny made their way towards Avalon's chamber, the sound of their footsteps ringing around them. Faint whispers began to intrude at the edge of their hearing, growing in strength and desperation as their progress continued. Cho appeared fairly unconcerned, but Ginny was starting to get a bit nervous, her eyes darting from stone to stone as if expecting them to leap out and attack. "Don't worry," Cho reassured her, giving her hand a pacifying squeeze. "It's perfectly natural."

"Hearing disembodied voices in my head is the furthest thing from natural," Ginny grumbled, brown eyes narrowing in indignation. She shivered, folding her arms around her torso in an effort to keep warm. "Who lives up here, a ghost?"

"Not quite," came the ethereal voice, drifting down towards the pair, adding a mysterious, almost dreamlike quality to their surroundings. "But it is good to finally meet you, Virginia Grianne Weasley."

"Bloody Merlin!" Ginny screamed as Avalon stepped into view, her fierce yellow eyes burning in the dark like twin lanterns, illuminating her unnaturally pale skin. To Cho's eyes, the Spirit Walker seemed worn down, her languished movements reflecting a hidden exhaustion. Although she had met Harry's tutor only a few short weeks ago, the beautiful Ravenclaw was wise enough to see that she was more tired, more fragile, and Cho hoped that this would not affect her powers. She and Harry needed Avalon if they were to help Blaise. The Champions were formidable duellists, talented mages and expert researchers, but this challenge simply could not be approached as a school exam or a battlefield brawl. They required the specialized powers of the Spirit Walker, but if Avalon was somehow injured or incapacitated…

The petite Legilimens smiled, her strange eyes widening as she saw Cho. "I thank you for your concern, Ms. Chang, but I will be more than prepared for the experiment." She turned to Ginny, the girl shrinking away in the face of this new contact. "You are quite welcome, Ms. Weasley, as a true friend of Mr. Potter and a determined warrior of the Light. I am Avalon, Harry's Occlumancy tutor."

To her credit, Ginny didn't stay stupefied for long. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Avalon. You must forgive me, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when I arrived. Tell me though, how did you learn my name?"

"Your thoughts have been resonating throughout the school ever since you met up with Ms. Chang, it was quite easy to determine your identity." Turning away from the awestruck Ginny, Avalon asked Cho, "I have been considering your idea and it has some potential, but I shall need time to make preparations. A major concern is that Voldemort will attempt to invade Harry's thoughts during the ceremony, so I shall need to erect some additional psionic defences around the North Tower, and immediately."

"How long will this take?" Cho asked, intrigued by the prospect of another means of telepathic shielding while still interested in knowing their timetable for the ceremony.

"The procedure is very delicate, and each step must be done at the right moment or else they will fail. All my effort must be placed upon establishing these shields if it is to work, but it is quite potent, if too costly and risky for everyday use. In one week's time, I believe I will be ready for you and the other Champions."

Cho breathed a sigh of relief. While this defence procedure Avalon described seemed to be too ineffective to help Harry keep Voldemort out of his thoughts on the regular basis, it would work well for the short ceremony they had devised. "That will be more than suitable, I believe. Will you need any assistance setting up?"

"If you could obtain some needed ingredients for me and help with the final enchantments, it would be more than welcome."

"Good!" Cho exclaimed, her expression determined and enthusiastic. Helping Blaise control the energies of Slytherin had been like a puzzle to her, and with any puzzle, the thrill of solving it only increased with each breakthrough. The shrewd Ravenclaw felt more confident about this than ever before. Now, at last, they could give Blaise the assistance she needed to wield her powers. "Thank you so much for your help, Avalon."

"You are more than welcome, Ms. Chang. Now, if you shall excuse me, I must begin preparations," Avalon answered, folding her creamy-white robes around her as she moved back to her lonely domicile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Virginia."

"Likewise," Ginny replied, giving a little bow as Avalon exited the stairwell, the door sealing quietly behind her. "Find out everything you needed?"

Cho nodded, a sly smile gracing her lips. In truth, she had uncovered quite a lot in the past half-hour. The plan she had conceived to spark the energies of Slytherin was viable, albeit clumsy and potentially dangerous, but still a useful procedure they could impliment. As well, Cho felt much more confident in working with Ginny now that she had visited the Spirit Walker. Being a skilled telepath, Avalon had immediately picked up her tempestuous thoughts once the two began speaking, and transmitted a single sentence into the mind of the beautiful Ravenclaw.

_You can trust her_.

And with that, the plan was prepared, the Champion of Ravenclaw was satisfied, and the rift between Cho and Ginny was sealed, hopefully forever.

* * *

"Mum was right miffed that you didn't decide to come, mate," Ronald Weasley stated as he settled into a deep sofa generated by the Room of Requirement. "She and Dad were really looking forward to seeing you again."

"Sorry to hear that," Harry replied, making a few final alterations to the Room, conjuring additional chairs for the rest of the veterans and enchanting a radio in the corner. He appreciated all that the Weasleys had done for him and enjoyed staying over at the Burrow, but the demands of duelling practice could not be met easily outside of Hogwarts. Besides, he doubted that Cho and Mrs. Weasley would get along very well, especially considering how she had treated Hermione during Rita Skeeter's smear-campaign at the _Prophet_. Molly Weasley was a kind and generous woman, but distinctly overbearing when it came to relationships. _Maybe some other time_, Harry said to himself, clearing his throat. "How was your holiday regardless?"

Hermione answered, a barely contained smile threatening to burst forth. "Very good, actually. I got a lot of studying done-"

"Couldn't put the books down for an instant," Ron grumbled.

"-and I got to see Fleur again. Apparently, the preparations for the wedding are going very well, though Mrs. Weasley is a bit wary of her. Bill and the rest of the children are doing well, but Mr. Weasley is being worked into the ground over at the Ministry, and barely had any energy for anything. Worse, he was called into the office several times during the holidays on top of that." Hermione took a seat next to Ron, letting his hand rest upon her stocking-clad knee. "Otherwise, it was quiet and somewhat refreshing. And what of your holidays, Harry? I hope you got some time to relax."

Harry gave a little yawn, lying back with his eyes closed. "Yeah, I did a bit, but I spent at least half of the break working in the Room of Requirement with Cho and Blaise."

"How are you handling the energies of Gryffindor?" Hermione pressed, concern written all over her features. The brilliant Gryffindor was smart enough to realize the dangers of Harry's newfound magic and feared for his safety. In truth, it was a concern that Harry himself had long realized and attempted to ensure.

"Better now," Harry replied, feeling the ancient magic pulsate in his blood, hungry for release. The young Gryffindor followed through with a deep-breathing exercise he had found useful, calming the energies and forcing them to settle. "It's got a mind of its own, but I can wield greater control since I've been practicing. When it first sparked, it was uncontrollable, incessant, but now it's much easier to direct it, to concentrate the magic to full effect and use it when I see fit."

"Nice work, mate," Ron said, smiling at the encouraging prospect. "Maybe the Death Eaters will give you some target practice, huh?"

Harry grinned, working a lingering crick from his neck. "Eventually, Ron, eventually. I hope you don't mind, but I invited Blaise here as well. She's got some important information regarding the Slytherins, and it's about time the Inner Circle met her anyway."

"Oh dear, I'm blushing," Blaise declared, the willowy Slytherin emerging from the corridor, strutting confidently towards the trio. Her deep blue eyes seemed to soften as her gaze met Harry's, and she gave a wistful, gentle smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all under much better circumstances. I'm Blaise."

Introductions were made, and while Hermione seemed quite pleased to finally sit down and talk with Blaise, Ron still maintained his inherent suspicion towards members of Slytherin House. "As long as you don't get the urge to start snooping around in places you don't belong, you'll be welcome here."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, irritated with the appalling lack of decorum her boyfriend presented.

"Is that so?" Blaise asked, her voice low and silky. "You must be quite the literary type, Weasley, having read all those books by their covers. Trust me, I'm not here as a result of your welcoming presence, I have important things to discuss, so mind your tongue and keep your prejudices in check."

"She's on our side, Ron," Harry reminded his often-belligerent companion, frowning in distaste at his words. Ron, never mind the rest of the Weasleys, had neither time nor love for Slytherin House, and old prejudices died hard, especially with Slytherin House as the root of much of Voldemort's support. The youngest Weasley son had experienced only hate and arrogance from his serpentine companions, thus speaking amicably to one would take some time.

Within the next few minutes, the remaining veterans, jokingly referred to by Ron as the Inner Circle, made their way into the Room of Requirement, each clad in casual robes bearing the colours of their respective House. Neville and Luna arrived holding hands openly, the rotund Gryffindor's face baring a drunken, blissful expression and the stain of Luna's sticky pink lip-gloss. Several minutes later, Cho and Ginny entered and, to Harry's utter astonishment, were chatting and laughing amongst themselves like old friends. Finally, Susan Bones of Hufflepuff arrived, the dark-haired girl flush with exhaustion and embarrassment. "Sorry for coming so late," the Hufflepuff officer apologized, throwing herself down on a loveseat in order to catch her breath. "Zach won't be here tonight, I'm afraid. He caught cold over the holidays and won't make it until tomorrow."

"A shame," Ron said, completely deadpan.

"Anyways," interjected Harry, cutting off Ron before he could speak, "Thank you all for being here tonight. Before we begin discussing the future of the Army of the Marauders, I want Neville to tell us what happened over the break. Neville, if you wouldn't be too much trouble?"

Hands shaking in memory of his clash with Malfoy, Neville described the horrible events in Diagon Alley to the assembled veterans. Once more, Harry was surprised at the changes his friend had undergone since the Battle of Hogsmeade. Previously, Neville was barely able to speak before groups about potion ingredients and magical creatures, let alone fights with the Death Eaters. Yet, here he was, shaky and stuttering but relating the events surrounding Malfoy's defeat in its entire detail. Everything from the first appearance of the junior Death Eaters to the strange wound on Malfoy's side to the Cruciatus Curse that ended up sealing the pureblood's fate, the rotund Gryffindor was exceedingly thorough in his anecdote. "I'm sorry, but Malfoy managed to get away before I could properly Stun him. The Aurors arrested all his cronies on sight, though he's still loose out there."

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for," Cho said sternly, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "You put your duelling skills to good use and deprived Voldemort of a dozen new recruits. Admittedly, Malfoy and his goons aren't the strongest wizards around, but we benefit every time we hurt Voldemort like this."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Cho has a good point. Don't forget that Voldemort probably isn't too happy with Malfoy right now either," she reminded the veteran Marauders. "I definitely wouldn't want to be in his shoes right about now."

"So is that it then?" Ron inquired hopefully. "Can we stop looking over our shoulders now?"

Blaise shook her head as she rummaged through a battered leather sack. "Afraid not. Slytherin House has degenerated over the centuries into a rabble of mindless sheep, too ignorant to question their allegiance to the Dark Arts. As a result, most of them don't have the brains to organize any coordinated resistance. Still, there are a few more ruthless individuals who could fill the void left by Malfoy, people we should watch out for," she warned the group. Her demeanour hard and professional, Blaise withdrew a series of manila folders from the sack, distributing them to her newfound allies. "I've collected some data on them, help us discover a weakness that might be exploited. Remember, these guys are the ones who want to replace Malfoy. They're the enemy, and I can tell you that they'll work just as hard to beat us as Malfoy did."

Ever the scholar, Hermione's eyes flew over the lists of names and birthdays, weight and height, personality and susceptibility to blackmail or coercion, and finally the pages of notes detailing the activities of the ambitious Slytherins. According to one file, the target represented had a great fondness for drink, while another was a physical coward and relied on subordinates to implement any of his plans. "Just like Malfoy," Blaise stated when asked. "Much of Slytherin House is like this these days, wrapped up in their hatred and selfishness, desperately re-enacting some aristocratic fantasy rather than accept the real world. It's revolting."

"How did you get all this information?" Neville inquired, highly impressed, chubby hands leafing through the pages.

Blaise chuckled. "In a House as full of egomaniacs and gossips as Slytherin, you can find out anything you need to know. As for the more personal notes, I found that bribery or blackmail was an effective tactic."

Ginny eyed the willowy Slytherin with no small measure of distrust. "Blackmail and bribery? You certainly live up to the Slytherin reputation, don't you?"

"Trust me, Weaslette, if the rest of the House had half of my cunning or skill, then we would be in some serious trouble," Blaise stated stoically. "Believe it or not, I'm am outlier relatively speaking."

"Dealing with any of Malfoy's successors or followers is a priority for us, though we might want to consider re-organizing the training sessions as well," Harry said. "It's getting to a point where we can't effectively teach all the students coming into the Army. I have numerous other demands, as do all of you, so Cho and I were considering dividing up the large training session into smaller groups of students. That way, we can adjust our training to suit our schedules and focus our energies more effectively. Handling all those students takes a lot out of everyone, and we can't keep up this pace forever. What do you all think?"

"Perhaps," Susan voiced, running a hand through her coal-black braids. "At the same point, however, having all of the volunteers training together does improve morale. Besides, they need to understand and trust those they are fighting with; separating them into distinct training groups will weaken the Army's cohesion."

Ron shook his head in disapproval. "Maybe not. We are already running three sessions with the entire Army, and it's getting in the way of a lot of schedules. Maybe by dividing us up, we can end a lot of stress with school and homework, and maybe have some more people join up."

"How many students have joined the Army anyway?" Ginny queried, looking around the room for a response.

It was Hermione who answered, the shrewd Gryffindor the group's unofficial logistics officer. "Out of the roughly six hundred students attending Hogwarts, I count eighty-four that are Marauder volunteers. The majority are sixth- and seventh-years, primarily emerging from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. I apologize, Susan, but Hufflepuff's numbers seem to have been overtaken."

"Thanks to Cho's persistent recruiting in Ravenclaw, no doubt," Susan postulated as she began to pace around the Room. "All the same, I'm still uncertain about this plan, Harry. Hogwarts suffers enough factionalism with the existing Houses, dividing up the group could just replicate that."

"Cho suggested that we could compromise somewhat," Harry suggested. "An alternate plan would still have the Army of the Marauders divided into smaller groups, but we would have a one joint-session weekly where the entire force is involved."

Sounds of approval resonated throughout the Inner Circle. "Much more reasonable," Susan declared, her anxieties over the Army's fate effectively quelled. "If we are going to do this, then let us take responsibility for the training of each squad. We can sort out the schedules later, though it is very important that we, as the most experienced fighters, take in lead in teaching them. We can do nothing less."

"I've been working up some new tactics over the holidays," Ron suggested. "We're already good enough with the spells that 'Mione's been putting forward, so we should probably figure out how were going to use them."

"Definitely a good idea," Ginny spoke. "I noticed in Hogsmeade that the Death Eaters focused on single persons, and that facing groups took the spine right out of them. Eighty-four students is a lot of weight to throw around if they are trained and well-organized."

Blaise cleared her throat, drawing the group's collective attention to the elegant Slytherin. "Ninety-three, actually."

"Where exactly does that number come from again?" Ron asked, barely containing his disgust. "You're not thinking of bringing the other Slytherins into this!"

Maintaining a perfect, professional mask, Blaise replied crisply, "Eight Slytherins and myself, to be precise. They're tired of the House's support of Voldemort, and want to achieve something more than being the school bullies or cannon fodder for the Dark Lord. They are, if I may say so, true Slytherins, unlike the crop of jackals and hatemongers we see today." Her crimson lips turned up into a wicked, frightful smile. "By the way, Weasley, all eight are women, so I hope it won't be more than you can handle."

"Tired of the sexism, correct?" Hermione postulated. "They'll have to be integrated with the rest of the Army, of course, but if you are certain about their loyalties, Blaise, I don't see any reason why we can't let them join."

"I'm sure. As well, the candidates I've found are all decently skilled and anxious to learn. They'll make good additions to the Army. With your permission, I'd like to integrate them with the other training squads so that both sides can grow accustomed to each other. There's no point in bringing my Slytherins in if the rest of the Army will hex them in the back at the first opportunity."

Ron looked completely disgusted, and showed no effort to conceal his distrust of Blaise. "I can't believe we're doing this, mate. Slytherins? We might as well take in Malfoy in at this rate."

The Champion of Gryffindor sighed, fed up with the partisan bigotry of his best friend. "That's the old way of thinking, Ron, a child's way of thinking. Blaise fought to save your life in the Forbidden Forest and she hates the Death Eaters as much as you do. Trust me in saying that you can trust her."

"Speaking for Hufflepuff House, I have no problem whatsoever with her presence in the Marauders," Susan added. "Zach will grumble and complain, but I'll set him straight."

"Blaise saved Luna's life back in Hogsmeade," Neville spoke up, his voice growing confident and proud. "And Harry trusts her, so that's fine for me. Welcome to the Army, Blaise." Voices murmured in assent, the Inner Circle won over by Harry's arguments and the willowy Slytherin's offer. Save for Susan, the Inner Circle was well aware of Blaise's position as the Champion of Slytherin, a convincing incentive to support her. Harry made a mental note to bring Susan up to speed regarding the Prophecies. She was definitely trustworthy and it would be unreasonable to keep one of his primary lieutenants out of the loop.

All eyes turned to Ron. "Alright then," he declared, capitulating in the face of overwhelming acceptance of the blue-eyed spy. "It's your call, Harry."

"Blaise stays," stated Harry unequivocally, earning a contented smile from the Champion of Slytherin. "Now then, on to other matters. Susan, what's this about Fudge giving a speech tonight?"

"And why should we be forced to listen to it?" Ron grumbled.

"Fudge is giving a speech tonight to assure the public of the validity of his leadership, the usual bombastic, inflammatory fare, with the bold Minister of Magic extolling the virtues of his government and decrying his enemies," Susan explained, displaying a more analytical, politically aware facet to her personality of which Harry had rarely seen. Her words held an edge of sarcasm, almost approaching malice. "Silly, silly _men_, so arrogant when they are about to fall…"

* * *

Eighteen-year old Lee Jordan nervously fiddled with his Quick Quotes Quill, his sweat-lined hands grasping the pen tightly as he was marched through security. The offices of the Ministry of Magic were host to a full regiment of Aurors assigned to protect the building during the Minister's speech, and their presence was as heavy-handed as could be imagined. The Auror at the security desk examined Lee's press pass while another thoroughly searched and scanned the contents of his note bag. Both were tough-looking Ministry Guardsmen, Fudge's personal elite, recruited and trained to serve out the will of the executive branch instead of the people themselves. "Nice girl," the first said, holding up the picture of Lee and Katie Bell he kept in the inner lining of his bag. "She your girlfriend or something?"

"I fail to see how my marital status has anything to do with national security," Lee snapped, infuriated that they had discovered the picture. He and Katie had been dating throughout their Hogwarts years and Lee kept the photograph to remind him of their good times together. "Are we done here?"

The Ministry Guardsman chuckled, casually throwing the photo back into Lee's notebag. His companion finished scanning his press pass and waved him through, smirking to himself. "Fine looking girl there. Wonder how some newshound managed to get a taste of her, huh?"

Lee's hand flew to his wand, but he resisted the urge to curse them both. Attacking Aurors was highly frowned upon these days, even if they were disrespectful bullies who enjoyed tormenting civilians. Being a reporter was never easy in the best of times, but Fudge had taken a very unenlightened view of the Fourth Estate, making his job all that more difficult. With the exception of the _Daily Prophet_, a Ministry mouthpiece at the best of times, the press faced hostility wherever it turned, even the publicly-funded Wizarding Wireless Network. This was certainly the case for Lee, who worked for one of the country's smaller, more independent media outlets and had neither the reputation nor the connections of the _Prophet_. Tonight, though, things were different. Fudge had invited every newspaper and wireless network in Wizarding Britain to witness his speech, a bombastic diatribe aimed at equal parts self-congratulation and political mudslinging. Fit Fudge's style to a tee.

The former Quidditch announcer made his way towards the Atrium, skirting past patrolling Aurors as he reached his assigned seat. A monstrous, polished hardwood podium had been erected at the rear of the Atrium, with several seats conveniently placed for Fudge and his cronies. Immediately before the stage, Ministry officials, social elites and Fudge's main supporters sat at expensive tables, admiring the elegant velvet tablecloths as they dined on the finest fare offered. Finally, the press corps and other ordinary citizens were arrayed in a gallery of chairs stretching across the breadth of the chamber, while technicians from WWN made the finishing touches to the microphones built into the podium. Drawing a notepad and quill, Lee listened to the buzz of conversation around him, chatting amicably with his fellow journalists and discussing the status of the war with prominent public officials. Oddly enough, there seemed to be some notable absences in the guest list, important enough to warrant further investigation. Amelia Bones, Arthur Weasley, his father Ryan…the names went on and on, decent folk to the last, unlike the current bumper crop of bitter, corrupt old men that governed the country. _In all likelihood, Fudge barred them from coming. He only wants a supportive crowd before him tonight._

"Ladies and gentlemen!" From the podium, Percy Weasley stood like a particularly self-absorbed herald, the sound of his voice causing the audience to halt their conversations and turn their attention towards him. Lee resisted the urge to hex the rat-faced git into next year, angry and ashamed that the turncoat Weasley had even been considered a member of Gryffindor House. "Years later, we may remark to our children that we heard and witnessed a great moment in history tonight. You have been honoured to hear the words of a great statesman, a true visionary of Wizarding Britain, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge!"

Polite applause reverberated throughout the Atrium as Fudge approached the podium, accompanied by his closest cronies and syncopants. No few voices were raised in muted shock at the presence of Dolores Umbridge beside the Minister, and another stab of hatred stung Lee's heart. He still bore the scars created by Umbridge's Blood Quill and never forgot the sadistic regime she instituted during her tenure as Hogwarts High Inquisitor. Judging from the audience's reaction, neither had the average citizen. Ignoring the Undersecretary's presence momentarily, Lee readied his quill and notebook, preparing to take down any significant quotes at a moment's notice.

"My countrymen," Fudge began, his jowls wobbling from side to side as he spoke, each word seemingly more self-inflating than the last. His robes were a garish combination of green and yellow, no doubt tailored to flaunt the Minister's wealth as much as possible. "It is my utmost honour to address you and the whole of Wizarding Britain tonight. In these dark times, it is more important than ever for the people to look to their rulers for guidance. Only by rallying to the cause of the Ministry can we hope to defeat the evils that besiege us. I know there is not a man in this room who would not be willing to lay down his life for the scions of Merlin, and I thank you for it."

_Laying it on a bit thick there_, Lee thought to himself, hastily jotting down notes, the enchantments upon the quill scribbling down everything Fudge had said. _Merlin knows how Muggle reporters survive without a Quick Quotes Quill to help them. Poor buggers…_

"The country should be aware that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a very dangerous and unpredictable threat, but he is not the only one. Many subversives and saboteurs lay hidden and unseen within our peacefully communities, wizards and witches who would defy the sovereign rule of the Ministry and spread disorder," Fudge intoned gravely. "In these times, dissent is a luxury we cannot afford, especially if such dissent serves only to undermine the just decisions of government. Many would betray our great nation for their own ends, and more still would embrace the beliefs of renegades and foreigners, weakening the integrity of our state. My loyal Aurors have arrested many such traitors, and they now languish within the stout prisons of the Ministry. The loyalty of every witch and wizard should be with the Ministry of Magic, and with no other!"

Applause rose from the foremost sections of the chamber, Fudge's hard-line supporters obviously enjoying themselves. Lee saw Umbridge give a thin, sickly smile at the pronouncement, while Percy Weasley clapped with grotesque enthusiasm, a drunken, adoring look on his face. Lee stayed silent, mechanically copying down the Minister's diatribe, but inwardly he raged against the depredations of this government. Fudge was not some maniacal tyrant or an authoritarian despot, but he was drunk on power all the same. He had maintained control of Wizarding Britain for far too long, and was more concerned with the accumulation of wealth and influence than actually using those advantages to help others. And now, as a result, people were suffering, both from Death Eater attacks and more mundane dangers, like poverty and false imprisonment. _Suffering while this idiot does nothing!_

"There are even those who would corrupt and confuse the most innocent among us, the children of the Wizarding World," Fudge trumpeted, his voice raising obscenely high along with his forefinger. "I have learned that select elements within the faculty at Hogwarts have been training groups of students in ways of violence, and indoctrinating them with anti-Ministry propaganda. It is my belief that these insurgents, these wretched traitors to the Ministry cause, are prep-"

A tremendous crash filled the hall, cutting off Fudge's next words as effectively as an assassin's blade. The main doors to the Atrium flew open, revealing a company of combat-hardened Aurors in battle robes who streamed into the hall. Many of the assembled nobles screamed, a few discarding their escorts and mistresses in hopes of finding escape, only to find themselves surrounded. The Ministry Guard went for their wands, but the speed of the Auror's entry left them unprepared and at their mercy. A final group took position around Fudge and his closest fellows, wands raised to strike them down at a moment's notice. The takeover was so sudden, so precise that neither Fudge's guards nor the assembled gathering could fire a single curse in resistance. Lee noticed with no small degree of satisfaction that the press pool and general audience were left completely unmolested, while Fudge's wealthy supporters and the Ministry Guard found themselves held at wandpoint.

Fuming angrily, Fudge's face impersonated an overripe tomato as the Minister shrieked like a steam-whistle at the offending Aurors. Umbridge unleashed her poison at any unfortunate soul that crossed her path, but these annoyances went unheeded by the stern soldiers. "What is the meaning of this? Stand down, all of you! You there, Captain, order your men to lower their wands!" Fudge nigh-screamed at a clean-shaven Auror bearing a pair of Captain's epaulettes.

To his credit, the Auror-Captain ignored the Minister as one might ignore a particularly annoying dog yipping at your heels. Instead, he performed in an about-turn that would have made the guard at Buckingham Palace envious, so that he faced the main entrance to the Atrium. "Area secured, ma'am!" came his call, the most perfect parade-ground baritone echoing throughout the gallery.

Lee's eyes widened as a lone, slight figure strode confidently into the Atrium, a dozen Aurors forming up alongside her as she passed. "Thank you, Captain," Amelia Bones said calmly, walking the few final steps towards Fudge's party. The Head of the Auror Office stared down her superior, the two Ministry bureaucrats a stark contrast. While Fudge was flamboyant and often hot-tempered, Bones' own robes were professional and conservative, and her demeanour was frosty, humourless. "Cornelius Fudge, you have charged with conspiring with known fugitives, accepting bribes while in public office, and gross abuses of power. I would advise that you come quietly, and preserve whatever small dignity that remains within the Office of the Minister of Magic."

"You're arresting me?" Fudge demanded incredulously, chuckling to himself. "I'm the Minister of Magic! A man in my position cannot be imprisoned like some common burglar! I demand you release me!"

"The rule of law applies to everyone, even the leaders of this country," Bones retorted. Turning to the assembled masses, she declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in conjunction with various departments of the Ministry of Magic, has discovered that Minister Fudge has been accepting bribes from known Death Eaters, all the while offering them immunity from prosecution under the law. While our people have been suffering and dying at the hands of the Death Eaters, the Minister has been letting them go about their murderous business. The full details of the Minister's crimes are currently being Owled to every Wizarding household in the country, and I will be more than willing to answer any questions you may have."

"This is treason!" Fudge screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at Madam Bones. "Guards, arrest this woman!" Not a single Auror or Ministry Guardsman moved. "This is a direct order from your leader! Arrest her!"

Fudge's words seemed to goad Bones into new heights of righteous indignation. "This is a criminal arrest, Cornelius, not a coup d'etat. However, if you're willing to launch this country into civil war, by all means. Captain?"

The Auror-Captain supervising the takeover drew a clipboard and began reading off a list, Fudge's face growing more despondent with every entry recited. "First Company of the Auror Corps, located in Shorncliffe, supports Madam Bones. Second Company, stationed in Manchester, supports Madam Bones. Third Company, based in Liverpool, supports Madam Bones…" The entirely of Wizarding Britain's Auror Corps were listed in fellowship with their civilian leader, and all of Fudge's hopes died in that instant.

"So, Minister, will you come quietly, or shall the Aurors exact the same punishments you have supported for prisoners?" Madam Bones asked, her voice a deadly whisper. "You have taken advantage of our people's suffering, and this country will not stand one moment more of your corruption. This nation, this _democracy_, is too precious to let die, and if removing you from power is the greatest price we have to pay, we will be fortunate indeed."

Fudge's voice was an exhausted croak. "Do you actually think that you'll be able to govern this country? That you'll be able to defend it? Such things are beyond a woman's capabilities, as I seem to recall."

"At the very least, I cannot do a worse job than yourself, Cornelius," Bones replied icily. "Captain?"

"Ma'am!"

"Have your Aurors escort the accused to the cells. They are to be treated with respect, but do not hesitate to employ less-than-lethal spells to prevent an escape. The Wizengamot shall arrange for a trial with all due speed, as is the law," Bones stated, raising her head high. "Mister Fudge may not respect the rules of this country, but that is a mistake I shall not repeat. Carry on, Captain."

Giving a salute of bone-cracking precision, the Auror-Captain ordered a squad to escort the prisoners, Fudge marched from the Atrium with his head sunk, his cronies and various minions still bleating out pitiful excuses. The nobles glared daggers at Bones, the Ministry Guard resignedly surrendered their wands to the Aurors, and Amelia Lauren Bones turned to face the waiting public.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would advise you to be calm, for the Ministry of Magic shall not disappear this day. I regret the necessity for this action, but the security of this nation and the integrity of its government demanded it. Regardless, there is still a war to win, and we have remained timid and frightened for too long in the face of this challenge, substituting a legitimate strategy for the tactics of a bully against our people. From this day forth, the Ministry of Magic shall spare no expense and abuse no resource in prosecuting this war, and we shall not rest until the Dark Lord is defeated. It will require sacrifice, it will require cooperation, but it will not require the abolishment or arrest of our most fundamental freedoms. Now then, if you have any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them for you."

* * *

A week passed since Fudge was thrown in prison by the stout Aurors, and the Ministry of Magic had accomplished more in than space than they had throughout the entire war. The news of Fudge's corruption managed to shake the public from its fearful stupor, and a general referendum elected Madam Amelia Bones to the position of Minister. The new leader of Wizarding Britain went to work immediately, passing a series of new measures to prosecute the war against Voldemort. The Ministry Guard, Fudge's personal thugs, were disbanded and absorbed into the rest of the Auror Corps, helping to partially restore some of their losses. Fudge had imprisoned some dissidents and political opponents alongside captured Death Eaters in the Ministry cells, and Bones had begun the process of sorting out the two, determining guilt or innocence in all cases. A progressive increase in taxes led to greater fiscal resources to fund the Aurors, despite the grumblings of the nobility and the elites. "We are in a state of war," the new Minister explained frostily, "and we must all play our part in combating this menace. If one is cannot take arms against the Death Eaters or heal and inspire our forces, then one should at least be providing the resources needed to help others fight. That includes the rich and the powerful. None are exempt from their responsibilities to society."

Meanwhile, the change in leadership resulted in much closer relations between the Ministry and the Council of Gaea, the two factions on much friendlier terms with Fudge out of the way. Both the Shadow Hunters and the Aurors began to integrate their forces on an ad hoc basis, the martial talents and devastating magiks of the Elementalists supported by the greater numbers and flexible combat doctrine of the Ministry's paramilitary troops. These units stormed Death Eater safe-houses and covens of vampires, making several dozen arrests and weakening Voldemort's reach into both England and the Continent. Finally free from the constraints of Fudge's policy, the Aurors took up their duties with bold enthusiasm, all the while preserving the civil rights of innocents caught in the crossfire. The Fourth Company Aurors, led by the newly-promoted Auror-Captain Tonks, had even broken up a mass vampire feeding in Devonshire, where Isolde von Albrecht had been overseeing the festivities. The chief vampire serving amongst Voldemort's forces, now referring to herself as the Queen of the Gathering Dark, was driven off by the massed curses of the Aurors, with even the power of the Blood Ruby insufficient to defeat the bold Aurors. Cho was dismayed upon learning that von Albrecht had survived, no doubt driven by the same insane hatred against the line of Ravenclaw she had demonstrated in the Forbidden Forest. The vampire's presence was another threat to the forces of the Light, and the beautiful Ravenclaw knew in her bones that a reckoning was unavoidable.

The arraignment for Fudge's trial had gone smoothly, and the majority of his cronies and personal staff has been implicated under the same corruption charges, save for two notable exceptions. First was Cecila Diggory, the fallen Cedric's mother cleared of any wrongdoing though still highly hostile to Bones' administration. The next was none other than Percy Weasley, who was determined to be uninvolved in the majority of Fudge's misdeeds, albeit severely reprimanded for his blind loyalty to the former Minister. In no small measure of disgrace, Percy had moved towards patching things up with the rest of the family, and relations were starting to improve between the Weasleys and their wayward son. While Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had accepted him back with few reservations, the rest of the children were far more critical of their ambitious sibling. Ginny could not bring herself to speak his name, and the twins had made him the reluctant test subject for various experimental joke products.

Despite the Ministry's new drive to support the war effort, problems still lingered within the wizarding government. The corruption that had devoured Fudge's leadership was the boldest iteration of an age-old problem within the bureaucracy, and not even a change in political guidance could fully exorcise it. Madam Bones had begun a process of cleaning out and reforming the sleaziest departments and sacking corrupt officials, but it was an uphill battle and one that would take time. Still, the new Minister was already acquiring a reputation for both honesty and determination, and few doubted that she would succeed.

One week had passed since Cho's meeting with Avalon, and the Spirit Walker was finally ready to proceed. The three Champions gathered in the North Tower of Hogwarts as night blanketed the castle, faint shadows creeping by torchlight and a heavy stillness falling upon the halls. Something danced in the air, a pulse of life and magic, a taste of the extraordinary and the divine. In the days of the Founders, a particularly esteemed sage might see this as a portent of great things on the horizon, but few were willing to indulge in such notions today. Hogwarts lay enveloped in an air of mystery, made all the more potent by the presence of the Champions. Blaise had been struggling with her attempts at sparking the energies of Slytherin, but tonight would change all that.

Inside the North Tower, Avalon had carefully prepared the necessary enchantments, a circle of power inscribed on the floor with ground amethyst and a series of runic patterns chiselled into the walls. The Spirit Walker's cot and personal possessions had been removed, save for a small chest containing her supply of warpstone dust, leaving the chamber nearly bare. Within the circle of power lay a futon, presumably for Blaise. Avalon had been insistent that her wards remain undisturbed. "If the circle of power is broken, then the shields will fail and all our work will be for naught. Harry, you will be beside me, while Cho, I have ensured a safe zone for yourself in the opposite end of the room."

"What exactly is going on here?" Blaise questioned, eyebrows raised in doubt. "I thought we were going to try and spark the energies, so what's the point of all this?"

Avalon gestured sweepingly towards the futon. "This is the means by which we shall accomplish this task. Please, lie down on the mattress, but take care to avoid breaking the circle."

"That still doesn't answer my question," the Champion of Slytherin insisted, tension creeping into her voice as she obeyed Avalon's command. "I seem to recall seeing those runes before in class. Runes of Shielding, perhaps, but the pattern appears to be altered somewhat."

"Your assumption is correct, Ms. Zabini," Avalon replied. "In order to trigger the energies of Slytherin safely, it is necessary to ensure that all of the participants are secure before-hand. These runes will shield the chamber from any external telepathic intrusions, so we might prevent Voldemort from discovering what we are planning."

At this point, Cho spoke up. "Our plan, to put it simply, is to spark the energies by having Harry and Avalon make telepathic contact with them. As close as we can tell, the magic possesses a degree of sentience; emotions, thoughts and feelings all to its own. We often experience it when under emotional stress or having other strong feelings, and the magic accentuates and reinforces these desires. We're hoping that we can prod it awake and direct it into a more stable triggering process.

"Now then," Cho continued, "the Spirit Walkers like Avalon have a technique they refer to as the Spirit Link. In essence, the Spirit Walker acts as a medium for communication between two non-Legilimens, in much the same way that a Muggle telephone allows for communication between distant places. The Spirit Link can also be used to project someone's thoughts onto another person, the Spirit Walker acting as a conduit for someone less skilled in Legilimency. In this instance, Avalon will act as the conduit for Harry to stimulate the energies of Slytherin. The energies appear to have a similar link, regardless of the user, so perhaps the influence of a brother magick may initiate the sparking process. For simple communication, no skill in Legilimency is required, though for our purposes, Harry's skills will be needed to trigger the sparking."

"That was a headache and a half, coming from you," Blaise quipped. "So, basically, Harry's going to peer into my mind and boot this bastard upright, correct?"

"Basically," Avalon answered. "Harry has become a very skilled Occlumens at this point, and he has picked up on the basics of Legilimency as a result. Unfortunately, he will be psychically vulnerable during this process, so these wards have been erected to prevent Voldemort from taking advantage. In essence, we are in a psychic null-zone, inaccessible from the outside."

"What about the circle of power?"

It was Harry who answered, lines of regret etching his young face. "Blaise, the sparking process is usually highly destructive, and once it begins, you may not care for anything other than the power. The circle of power is designed to shield the rest of us should the worst happen. I'm sorry, but it's better to be safe that way."

The Champion of Slytherin gave a slow, understanding smile. "It's sensible, I'll give you that. Strange to think that we never thought of the anti-Legilimency runes before, Harry. It might have saved you plenty of grief regarding Voldemort."

Now it was Harry's turn to smile. "Thanks for the concern, Blaise, but this method is a bit unwieldy to use regularly. Avalon had to work a full week to get it set up, and the process requires the application of the runes according to lunar phases, apparently. All for about five hours of protection."

"Plenty of time to achieve our aims," Avalon said, taking several deep breaths in preparation. "Seconds can be an eternity if we will them so."

A final question from the Champion of Slytherin remained to be answered. "How in the world are you powering the defences? They seem too complex to be self-sustaining, and most wards do need an external power source."

"It's Hogwarts," Cho explained. "The Founders did not choose this site at random. I've been doing some research, and it appears that the castle is built upon an intersection of ley lines, currents of raw magic that fuel the castle's activity. The moving staircases are driven by this power, as are the defensive wards that protect the school. In essence, we've simply tied our temporary wards into the permanent grid. They should be able to hold from anything they encounter."

Blaise slowly forced herself to relax, ignoring the furious pounding in her heart, the excitement that hummed from every nerve ending. _One way or another, it will be over_. "Alright, I'm ready."

Gingerly stepping over the circle of power, Cho raised a vial of purple liquid, uncorking the glass container and raising the solution to Blaise's lips. "Dreamless Sleep Potion. I thought it would be best for you to be resting while Harry and Avalon worked their magic."

"Thanks," Blaise said, nodding in affirmation. Drinking deeply of the solution, she immediately began to drift off, and was asleep within moments. Cho allowed herself a quick glance of concern before moving back to her position in the safe zone.

"Let us begin," said Avalon, assuming a lotus position behind the sleeping Blaise. "Place your hand upon my back, Harry, and go through a breathing exercise. Treat this as you might treat a normal Occlumency session."

Harry did as he was directed, feeling the chill of the Spirit Walker's flesh through her robes before blocking it out of his mind. The physical was a detriment to his goals tonight, and he would depend on his mind more than ever. Closing his eyes, Harry began to relax, following through the routine he had practiced for every night since his sixth year at Hogwarts started. The world around him sloughed away, deteriorating and decaying into nothingness, his mind transcending the immediate and leaving the world behind him. As Harry mediated, a spark of light flashed in his brain, a link forged with Avalon, her luminous spirit gently drawing him in. Like a well-paved road, Harry saw his way into Blaise's spirit, golden and shining as a midsummer's eve, a bright sun reflected upon rippling darkness. Throughout his Occulmency training, Harry had never imagined that he could turn the tables and reach into another's mind so effectively, but with Avalon's help, such a process had occurred. He followed the path as it twisted and turned, drifting from one body to another, and then he felt it.

The energies of Slytherin, coiled and weary, appeared in his mind's eye, jealously wrapping itself around Blaise's spirit, binding it within its grasp. It had a dragon's pulse, slow, deep and thunderous, mocking of any who would seek to disturb its rest and vengeful if provoked. Waves of malice radiated from the magic, and Harry allowed himself a moment of shock before reaffirming his concentration. The energies were capricious and uncaring, disregarding of all human life with the concern that a man might give to a species of fly. Harry shuddered at the consequences of an unrestrained sparking, then brought his focus back to the task at hand. _That's why are you here, Harry, to keep that from happening_.

Slowly, Harry's astral form began to coax the dormant magic awake, his psychic emanations presenting the energies of Slytherin with a kindred spirit, a familiar "face", metaphorically speaking, that would assuage its more brutal reactions. _Arise, brother, and do not be afraid. I am here and everything is alright_. Darkness settled over him, and a bright ribbon of incandescent energy illuminated the "sky" above him as the energies of Slytherin stirred. The ribbon receded in a cloud of flickering city lights and the magic began to shift itself, uncoiling from the girl's spirit with languished movements. Harry imagined his own powers bursting to life, and a pure red flame sparked in his hands, the scent of the magic arousing Blaise's own. _We all care about you, Blaise, and you don't have to feel alone. Let the magic go, we'll keep you safe_.

The thunderous pulse of the magic increased in tempo, its drumbeat reverberating into the darkest recesses of Harry's mind. _Wake up_, he called, feeling Blaise's psychological restraints loosen and become unbound, freeing the magic. More and more fiercely, the drums sang their hypnotic, primal rhythm, green fire igniting all around him.

_Awake!_

* * *

Salazar Slytherin had died unloved and unknown save for his great misdeeds, his acts of terror that had shocked the wizarding world to this very day. Unlike his former comrade Ravenclaw, Slytherin left no vision of hope or warning to light the way for his successor, and most likely did not understand the full capabilities of the power he had inherited.

What Slytherin possessed in great quantities was hatred; endless, poisonous hatred against the Muggles, too hot and too purely forged to be destroyed at death. It was a whirlwind, a juggernaut, and it came alive with the scent of Gryffindor's magic. The taste of the betrayer's essence at its heart was too much for the energies of Slytherin to withstand, and they exploded outwards in a bloody rage, desiring nothing less than to rend the progeny of Gryffindor limb from limb.

Within the circle of power, the air surrounding Blaise exploded in a flash of green fire, the magical flames battering away at the shield containing her. In the same instant, Harry was thrown violently from Blaise's mind, the psychic backlash literally catapulting him into the tower's walls and leaving him dazed. Avalon let out an anguished cry as the attack burned through her mind, the Legilimency conduit established working both ways. Shielded within the psychic safe zone established by the Spirit Walker, Cho's beautiful eyes widened in horror as her lover and his tutor fell, struck down without raising a finger. "Oh no," she whispered, tears streaking down her face. "Oh no…"

Green fire strained forth, then shattered the enchantments, wiping the circle of power clean in a gout of flame. From the epicentre of the blast emerged Blaise, embryonic, reincarnated, her golden blonde hair billowing on thermals of power, bright blue eyes gazing at the world with childlike innocence. "_Glorious_," she breathed huskily, letting the energies of Slytherin gather in her hands, dancing like terrible nymphs in the dead of night. "It's just so beautiful…"

"Blaise," Cho was on her feet and moving, her mind on autopilot. "You need to keep it under control before someone else gets hurt. Harry and Avalon need to get into the Hospital Wing, so you must focus. Bring the magic under control, or you-"

"Control?" Blaise sneered viciously, letting the flame grow to even greater heights. "I'm in control, Cho, for the first time in my life, _I am in control_. The magic answers me, respects me, _obeys me_. When have you ever done that before? When have you ever shown me the respect I deserve?"

"That's the magic talking, Blaise!" Cho snapped in reply, holding her hands outward, palms lying flat, in an attempt to make herself appear less threatening. "It's seductive, Blaise, and it'll try to twist you into something you're not. It was like that for Harry and I, and I don't want you to lose yourself. Please, calm down and focus, for your sake if nothing else."

Blaise gave a cold, hateful laugh. "You stupid Ravenclaw slut, don't you get it? I know who I am now! Salazar's blood, his _essence_, runs through my veins, and the memories that go along with it! Everything in my life has been a lie, Cho, but now I'm free from all the illusions and the demands and the flawed perceptions! I'm a god, reborn unto this Earth to light the path for our salvation, and none of these insufferable insects we call wizards will stand in my way."

"And you would sacrifice your humanity, Blaise?" Cho demanded, drawing her wand and assuming a duellist's stance. "Please, don't become a slave to the magic! You're stronger than this! Fight it!"

Snarling in anger, Blaise struck, a whip of emerald fire extending from her hand and lashing out at the Champion of Ravenclaw, seizing her wand and hurling it away. Screaming with the ecstasy of the power, Blaise unleashed a full-fledged blast to finish the job, the attack countered by the blue fire of Ravenclaw. "We are powerful, Cho, and that gives us the right to rule! We should not have to bow down to the dictates of our lesser, but seize destiny and take power for ourselves! But you would deny us our heritage and side with the unworthy! You have squandered the power of the Founders, _I_ would do it justice, and so it should be _mine!_" Blaise was drunk on the magic, completely subsumed to its influence, and far beyond caring that her will had been destroyed by it. "We are gods among insects, and none dare tell us otherwise!"

Another burst of green fire struck Cho's shield, this time hurling her to the ground. The Champion of Ravenclaw gave a short cry as the wind was driven from her lungs, arms flying to her sides holding her bruised ribs. As Blaise approached, her right arm extended and a tendril of blue energy swiped the rogue Champion off her feet, momentarily stopping her rampage. "Bring it under control or I'll bring you under control," Cho said with gritted teeth, pushing herself up off of the hard sandstone and bringing the energies of Ravenclaw to bear. "Please don't make me hurt you."

The speed of Blaise's next attack shocked the Champion of Ravenclaw in its effectiveness. Cho looked on in confusion as the world shifted around her, the tower walls replaced by an unending series of landscapes, forests, mountains and the depths of oceans all in rapid secession. A hundred whispers and cries of horror assailed her ears, and her senses were bombarded in submission, her mind whirling at the constant stimulus. Before her eyes, Blaise _replicated_, one becoming a dozen and onwards, the endless ranks forcing her into a corner, the sea of rogue Champions clawing and choking her, threatening to drown Cho in their numbers. The beautiful Ravenclaw collapsed, every sense and means of stimulus overloaded, her mind tossed on waves of vertigo. Magic is dependant on the concentration and skill of the user, and the former crumbled into dust through this unorthodox assault, leaving Cho helpless under the illusionary powers of the energies of Slytherin.

"I can see why Harry loves you," came Blaise's voice, overriding all others, her soft hand caressing her cheek. "Your innocence, your purity; but that has no place amongst our kind. You fear me because you do not understand. See the truth and fear no more."

And then the world twisted and turned in Cho's vision, funnelling into the void, the vortex inexorable and unstoppable, dragging her in without pause. And in the distance, Cho heard a woman's voice scream for her lover like a wounded animal, a voice distinctly like her own.

And then there was nothing…

_Next Chapter: The days of Salazar Slytherin are revealed, as the Champions struggle to bring Blaise back to the light._


	25. Athena and Loki

**A/N:** Special thanks to Will for helping me out with this chapter, and thanks for all my reviewers for their dedication and patience. You are the greatest!

**Chapter 25: Athena and Loki**

_She was seven years old when she found her father dead, his body bleeding out onto the cashmere sofa, torn to ribbons by spiteful blades. Her father was a big man, several hundred pounds of cheer and affection for his only daughter, and now he would never speak to her again. Blaise took her father's huge palm in her own, dainty one and begged him to wake up, weeping profusely as she tried to revive him, her innocence and bright-eyed wonder pulverised into a thousand broken pieces…_

Within the North Tower, Blaise sat in the eye of the storm, a tempest of memories screaming around her, projected by the illusionary powers of the energies of Slytherin. Her entire life was displayed around her, the sum of a human being shown for anyone who would care to watch and listen. Blaise let it be, content to let the magic wash over her, a mystical baptism to clean away all of her sins. She had made too many mistakes and too many bad decisions over her young life. Better to confront it now and forget it all…

_She was eleven years old, skinny, timid and wilting under the gaze of the entire school, the Sorting Hat perched atop her head, searching through her mind in order to choose her House. She desperately wanted to avoid Slytherin House, seeing the way her mother reacted whenever the word was spoken, hearing the gossip and whispers from the other first-years on the train. In her anxiety, she imagined Slytherin House as a pit of horrors, brimming with Dark wizards and waiting to devour young girls alive. The Hat's voice boomed throughout the Great Hall, "_Slytherin!_" and her heart dropped into her chest. There would be no escaping it now._

The energies of Slytherin caressed her as a mother would a babe, whispering gentle reassurance, soothing the tug of conscience and responsibility. She felt safe, loved, protected from all the dangers and confusion of the world within the flames, purified of the nagging doubts that had pursued her all year. This was who she was, a force of nature, a dark storm on the horizon, capricious and beyond such human concepts as good or evil. One did not pass judgement upon the whirlwind, the earthquake or the ocean storm, but accepted it for what it was.

_She was thirteen and in the local church, listening to the neighbourhood priest drone on about Abraham and Isaac in the sweltering heat of midsummer. Wearing a bright-yellow sundress, Blaise was shocked to hear the priest's comments directed at her, the old fire-breather ranting against temptations of the flesh and using the blonde girl in the front pew as an example. Her cheeks burned with shame as the congregation turned their attention towards her, their sibilant whispers stoking her anger to even greater heights. Storming out of the church, she had sat between the tall branches of a willow and wept for hours, cursing the Muggles and their God, rejecting their faith and resolving to embrace her magical heritage more fully. She never stepped foot into the church again._

Blaise let the magic dance in her hands, weaving and floating around her arms like silk sashes. It was a pleasing sight, knowing she possessed full control over the magic, tamed the furious power to her indomitable will. Who could doubt the power of Slytherin and the might of his Champion? Briefly, Blaise considered storming into the Slytherin dormitories and bending the House to her service. Let them submit themselves to a true leader, and the House would be reborn in her image, empowered by the might of Salazar's avatar! All the grand achievements she had dreamt when taking up her witch's robes seemed childishly easy now. Armies and nations would come crashing down at her feet, let alone boarding school factions, and her spells could reshape cities and bring terrible storms crashing down on the heads of her enemies. She imagined a parade of willing followers obeying her commands as one might obey a goddess, and the skulls of Malfoy and his goons mounted on pikes before the jeering masses.

_She was fourteen and jealously seized her in its tendrils, leaving her bitter and spiteful. For some time now, she had possessed a secret longing for the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory, even wearing one of the badges in support of him. The sight of that twit Cho Chang with him was more than she could stand, for she knew that Cho was kind and innocent and lovely while she survived by her wits alone, ignored by the rest of the school and betraying whomever she could to survive. It was this hate that led her to infiltrate Ravenclaw Tower late one night and attempt to hex Cho with a curse of Dark origin. It was a failed attempt. Seeing how Cho had not come out of her dorm that evening, Blaise took out her anger on a relaxing Luna Lovegood, firing off the curse and sprinting away before she could detect her, leaving the girl suffering from constant nightmares for a full week. When Cedric died, she lay in her room, beating herself up for her pettiness, and regret strangled her grief until there was nothing left._

However, even in the most glorious depths of her hallucination lay the seeds of rationality. Cho's words kept coming back to her, a splinter of compassion and reason wedged into her mind, driving her mad in their potency. _Please, don't be a slave to the magic! You're stronger than this! Fight it!_ It was a nagging canker in her brain, competing with the irresistible lure of the magic, their collision leaving the Champion of Slytherin in a daze. _Could Cho possibly be right? Is the magic out of control?_ she asked herself, grappling with indecision. No, it couldn't be possible. She was the Champion of Slytherin, and the magic bowed to her, not the reverse! She was the master here!

"_It's alright, darling,"_ the voice whispered from within, seductive and arresting. _"She's just jealous of you, my sweet, they all are. She tried to trick you, but you solved that little problem, didn't you? Thieves and lairs to a man, they are. Put your trust in me, my sweet. Just let the magic flow over you. Feels good, doesn't it?"_

"But I hurt Cho," Blaise replied. "I hurt her and Harry and Avalon, and I know I shouldn't have, they were only trying to help me, I didn't mean to hurt them…"

"_Lies!"_ the voice hissed, becoming angry now. _"They wanted to steal the magic from you, that which is rightfully yours! Ravenclaw would betray you as she did me! Traitorous little whore! You did the right thing in stunning her, my sweet. Kill her now before she can cause any more mischief."_

Blaise paled. "No, I can't. She's my friend, she tried to help me, I didn't want to hurt her before and I won't do it again!"

A wicked chuckle sounded from her sibilant companion. _"You wanted to hurt her before, my sweet, out of jealousy, out of anger. You didn't have any trouble striking her down earlier; don't loose your spine now. You wanted her to be hurt and it happened, now finish the job!"_

"No…" Blaise whimpered, gazing at the flames contained within her palms. What had moments before seemed so beautiful and wondrous now filled her with horror and loathing. Cho was right. She had always been right. Trying to dam the rising panic she felt within her heart, Blaise attempted to bring the magic to heel, to enforce her will upon it. Her breathing quickened as the fire burned hotter than ever, rising in great plumes towards the ceiling, rendering her incandescent in its light. It wouldn't answer her, wouldn't obey, no matter how hard she tried…

_She was fifteen and anxiously flirting with Terence Higgs down in the Slytherin dungeons, attempting to learn all that she could about the Inquisitorial Squad's plans. She had been sloppy that evening, letting slip an insult against the egotistical Slytherin Chaser, and being so arrogant not to see the violent response that came in reply. Higgs had beaten her bloody in his anger, raining down blows upon her beautiful, patrician face and leaving it marred with tremendous bruises. It had been a small slight against his supposed masculinity, and he had left her battered and brutalized in order to repair his flimsy ego. Her face a moonscape of yellow and purple, Blaise hardened her heart against men from that point on, disdaining the companionship of those who needed to injure a young girl in order to feel like real men._

The Champion of Slytherin felt the voice speak again from the darkest pits of her soul. _"You will need to be stronger if you are to become my avatar. Use the magic."_

Blaise wept.

* * *

On the western coasts of Wales, the cottage lay covered under a blanket of light, powdered snow, a cold sea-wind rolling from the depths to lash at the coastline. The five Muggles that dwelt within had been brutally murdered by the Dark Lord himself, using a bizarre curse that literally ripped their life-force from them and left them dead in moments. Snape had never seen a spell like it, and his eyes widened as Voldemort seemed to gain new strength from the attack, rejuvenated by the casual slaughter of his enemies. The Hogwarts Potion Master had remained on his knees, deliberately avoiding his master's cruel gaze to further reinforce his Occlumency shields. The Mark had burned like acid when he awoke, and only the permission of Dumbledore sent him to this rocky shore where the Dark Lord was waiting, impatient for his erstwhile servant. Powerful enchantments sealed away the area from outside attack or detection, the Dark Lord taking no chances with the Aurors now roused.

"Explain it to me then, Severus," the oily, hate-filled voice of Lord Voldemort asked, sending a frigid chill down Snape's spine. "Explain it to me why I should not kill you?"

Severus Snape, despite all his faults, was no coward. He had served as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix during Voldemort's first rising, and had maintained his cover in the years following the Dark Lord's defeat, always on the watch for a vengeful Death Eater who may have learned his secret. He was a master Occlumens, a necessity when dealing with a creature as powerful and cunning as Lord Voldemort. He was well-trained, professional and courageous, yet the hiss of his master's words froze him to the bone. "I can still be use to you, my Lord," he replied, licking his lips nervously as he sat kneeling before Riddle. "And my absence from your immediate service can be explained in due course."

"Can it?" Voldemort inquired viciously. "The summons of the Dark Mark cannot be denied upon pain of death, Severus. And yet you did not answer me upon my return, while the rest of my loyal Death Eaters complied unquestioningly. What desperate excuse can you muster to explain why you did not answer me for a full eighteen months, hmm?"

The First Death Eater Asmodeus was there as well, a brooding, lethal figure in black cloak and red mask. "Choose your words carefully, Snape," the assassin growled, weathered hands tightening their grip around his blades. "Disobedience to my Master is frowned down upon, as you are well aware."

"I am," Snape answered, steeling his anger against Voldemort's chief lieutenant. He had just encountered Asmodeus and was horrified by what he had seen; a pure-bred killer in the service of the Dark Lord, an uncompromising fanatic who could murder an infant and find justification. The red mask and various voice-altering spells obscured his identity, while his mind was well-fortified against a Legilimency intrusion, making identification all but impossible. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Snape uttered his excuse. "I did not answer your summons so that I might prove to be a more valuable asset to you, my Lord."

"Indeed?" The amusement in Voldemort's voice was plain. "I must confess, Severus, I am uncertain as to how that principle works, becoming a better servant through treason. Elaborate."

Snape continued. "Over the past fifteen years, I have steadily gained the confidence of Albus Dumbledore. I have become one of his closest counsellors and occupy a high position within the workings of Hogwarts. The fool trusts me, my Lord, trusts me as only a caring old man can. Yet, his mind is still quick for all his age. When you returned to us, a glorious day indeed, Dumbledore was able to guess your stratagem almost instantaneously. I am the asp at his breast, my Lord, but coming into contact with you would arouse his suspicions."

"Go on." Not a suggestion, but a command.

"I did not acknowledge your summons so that I might give the illusion of working for Dumbledore wholeheartedly. And it has paid off, my Lord. I know when he is most vulnerable, the passwords to various areas of the school, access to select enchantments that secure the grounds!"

The malformed voice of Asmodeus cut through Snape's explanation. "And what of the Order of the Phoenix? Can you give us any information on their movements, their numbers, their hideouts?"

Snape sighed as if in regret. "Unfortunately no. The inner workings of the Order are held by others, and I know little of their activity. All the same, I can deliver Dumbledore to you, my Lord. I can deliver Potter, or those he loves! Because I did not answer you earlier, my Lord, I can go into places that the mighty Asmodeus here can only dream of. I have stayed hidden and subtle as a well-trained hunter might, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

A cruel smile lay branded over Voldemort's lipless mouth. "A most convincing argument, Severus. Yes, perhaps even a pathetic wretch like yourself as some value. Asmodeus, what do you think of our little snake in the grass?"

The rage in the First Death Eater's voice was palpable. "I would batter the walls of Hogwarts down with my bare fists if you so commanded, my Lord. I would raze that decadent edifice to the ground and butcher every single Mudblood and Muggle-lover within. I see no need to allow this traitor to live when you have such might behind you. Potter will die by my hands and no other! His treason will not go unpunished!"

"Enough, Asmodeus," the Dark Lord commanded, restraining his subordinate's choler. "Remember that you are mine, and will do as I command. Severus, you have proven your worth, for the moment. Tell me, how vulnerable is Potter inside Hogwarts?"

"For the most part, he walks to classes accompanied by several of his closest friends, and the student body is mostly supportive of him. Some dissension exists from factions supporting yourself or the former Minister Fudge in secret, but the students are either aligned with Potter or too apathetic to choose sides. I have learned that Potter has trained a force to defend the school in the event of an attack, the Army of the Marauders," Snape explained. From the corner of the cottage came a whimpering moan, as Voldemort's attendant Peter Pettigrew sat trying to shield himself from the mention of anything connected to the friends he betrayed, his rat-like features wrinkled piteously. "They number several score by now, and are both well-trained and disciplined. Beyond them, Potter is a trained warrior and an accomplished duellist, well beyond most of the student population. His lover is formidable as well, and not to be underestimated."

"Tell us about his lover, this Champion of Ravenclaw," Asmodeus demanded. "I remember her from the Forbidden Forest."

Snape paused for a brief moment, pangs of guilt tugging away at him. Cho Chang was a skilful brewer of potions and a decent, compassionate person, so Snape was finding himself hard-pressed to deliver an innocent girl into Voldemort's hands. "I unfortunately know little about her, my Lord. She is in her final year at Hogwarts, a member of Ravenclaw House obviously, the daughter of some trinket dealer or other. She's a threat, but not an insurmountable one."

"Wormtail, you killed her boyfriend, that worthless spare Diggory, correct?" Asmodeus asked, receiving a meek nod from the craven Animagus. "Your finest moment, Wormtail, killing that pathetic Muggle-lover, huh? Aside from restoring my Lord, of course," the First Death Eater amended quickly.

"She is in love with Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"Indeed, my Lord, deeply so. Potter will not suffer any harm to come to her, as Lucius' death amply demonstrated. I believe that it is a weakness we might be able to exploit."

Asmodeus laughed. "Love! A foolish, idiotic notion, an insipid construct of the weak and feeble. It's disappointing, my Lord, that your enemies should shackle themselves with such weak emotions, it makes them far less worthy adversaries."

"You have learned well, my apprentice," Voldemort said, receiving a bow from the First Death Eater. Turning his attention back to Snape, Riddle presented a malicious, stony face. "Severus, you have earned a reprieve, for so long as you continue to please me. I shall require you to keep your eyes and ears open at all times, and answer my summons promptly. When my plans come to fruition, you will be needed."

"My Lord," came Snape's devoted answer as he kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. "Thank you for your mercy."

"Mercy?" Voldemort demanded, red eyes filling with hate. In the next moment, Snape felt the pain of a thousand hot knives digging his flesh, the Cruciatus Curse cast by the Dark Lord particularly potent. "Mercy is a weakness, and Lord Voldemort prides himself on his lack of weakness. You live because you are useful, Severus, your every breath is dependant on your successes. Disobey me again and you will regret it. Do you understand?"

Snape coughed out blood, his body quaking in agony. "Of course, my Lord," he replied weakly. "I shall not fail you."

"Good," the Dark Lord intoned. "Return to Hogwarts and be prepared to receive my summons to Hell Pit. Come, Asmodeus, Wormtail, let us return." Three whip-cracks later and the Dark Lord had disappeared with his servants, back to whatever dank hole he had claimed as a stronghold.

Snape groaned in pain, levering himself up off of the dusty wooden planks, the copper taste of blood welling up in his mouth. _The sacrifices I make for the Order_, he thought to himself, cursing Voldemort and Dumbledore in equal measure. He hadn't intended on returning to his duties as a Order spy, believing that the Dark Lord was aware of his treachery and it would be suicide to return. However, it seemed his skills would be needed here, all to ensure the world's survival. Limping upon the floorboards, Snape made his way to the Apparition point, shivering despite himself. _Into the darkness once more. How fitting._

* * *

The whirlwind screamed around Cho with a banshee's wail, a million particles of dust and grit choking her lungs and blinding her eyes, each grain a life's memory. The young sorceress had awoken into the furious hurricane, surrounded by the eye wall of Blaise's memory-storm which occasionally drifted inwards and outwards, catching her within the barrier. Each time the wall hit, Cho was cast into the storm, hurtling into the visions like a drowning woman being smashed by the ocean's waves, before being tossed out again as it shifted. In her moments of lucidity, the Champion of Ravenclaw saw her companion's memories being displayed before her, and a pall of shame laid cast over her. She felt like some kind of voyeur prying into Blaise's personal life in such a fashion, even if the effect was unintentional. Still reeling from the vertigo effect caused by the willowy Slytherin's powers, Cho had little time to consider that, crawling on her hands and knees in an attempt to escape the memory-storm and find her. _If she manages to breach into the rest of the castle in her state, there's no telling how many innocents could get hurt!_ she thought to herself, tough hands grasping the stone wall, levering herself up. As much as she wanted to check on Harry and Avalon, the situation had gotten too critical by this juncture. When properly wielded, the energies of the Founders were a useful tool, but were incredibly dangerous when control was limited, and the Champion of Slytherin didn't have a burning town full of Death Eaters to expend the magic on. The situation needed to be contained by any means possible, as much as the prospect of killing her friend horrified the beautiful Ravenclaw. _Come on, Blaise, you need to focus! Just calm down and rein it in, or it's going to get ugly!_

Resting her back on the firm stone of the tower wall for a moment, Cho took the opportunity to assess her status. Her wand was missing, seized away in Blaise's initial sparking, and it was unlikely that she would find it while the memory-storm persisted. The pockets of her blue-trimmed robe contained a few scraps of parchment and her favourite quill, little bits of paraphernalia with nothing of value in a duelling situation. Her only weapon was undoubtedly her most formidable; the energies of Ravenclaw, but even it had its limitations. It would do her no good to simply blast through the memory-storm like she would with a physical opponent; she would only show Blaise her movements, all the while potentially hurting Harry or Avalon in the process. _How in the world I am going to stop her if I can't even figure out where she is?_ she asked herself, trying to stay focused, the cadence of her breathing calming down to a reasonable pace.

Raising her left hand, Cho let the energies of Ravenclaw burn in her palm softly, illuminating her as would a watchman's lantern. The memory-storm seemed to shrink away from the sapphire light, slowly receding and coalescing before her sight. "Blaise, it's Cho," she called out discreetly, chocolate-brown eyes glancing around the room with a hunter's keenness. "I know you're scared right now, but you can bring the magic under control. It's not impossible, and you are certainly strong enough to do it. Just try to calm down and everything will work out."

No response came to the beautiful Ravenclaw's words, but that was to be expected. By this point, Blaise was likely so enthralled by the magic that they went completely unheeded, the pleas of friendship drowned out by the thrill of power. Still no movement from within the memory-storm, though the cyclone itself continued to condense. Finally, it came together to reveal a bright chamber, illuminated by the light of a dozen torches and filled to the brim with sheets of parchment, tightly-bound scrolls and ancient tomes with yellowed pages. Daylight streamed in through the windows, and the plain oak table dominating the room was covered in various pages of notes. The insane tempest generated by Blaise had finally stabilized, and Cho looked upon a blood memory of Slytherin, the recollections of the dark Founder revealed to her view.

It appeared that the beautiful Ravenclaw had intruded upon a meeting of the Founders, their passionate debate echoing off the tower walls. Not that they could see or hear Cho of course, for like her memories of Ravenclaw, the process only went one way. She was an audience member watching a play upon the stage, the actors deaf and blind to her presence. All of the Four were there, and from the looks of it, trouble was brewing in the castle. Subconsciously, Cho knew that continued vigilance was necessary in the event that Blaise struck from the vision, but her love of knowledge decreed that she relax slightly and pay attention. Warrior-mage though she might be, she was a Ravenclaw first and foremost, and she would be damned before she missed seeing a slice of history such as this.

"I'm telling you, we have to respond!" Slytherin declared forcefully, slamming his fist upon the table. He was in his late twenties by this point, his hair and well-trimmed beard still coal-black, angular cheekbones and long pointed nose burning red with anger. "The Muggles are getting bolder, attacking our kind with impunity now! Three dead, Godric! Three young witches burned at the stake in Essex, and still their murderers walk free and unpunished."

"What would have us do, Salazar?" the noble Gryffindor inquired, his golden hair partially disguised beneath the moth-eaten wizard's hat adorning his head. "It's a tragedy, my friend, I agree wholeheartedly. But vengeance is not going to bring those girls back. What you are suggesting is an attack of retaliation, and I can't agree to that."

Slytherin gave an unpleasant sneer vaguely mirroring of the Malfoy brood. "So you would rather let their ghosts go unheeded, Godric, their murderers unpunished? When we established this school, we did so to ensure that our people could use their gifts wisely and never have to suffer this kind of persecution ever again. We should be defending ourselves against the Muggles and showing them the cost of hurting our people, not hiding within the castle like pitiful worms."

"I vote no," the kindly young Hufflepuff answered, her face glowing with the healthy flush of a woodsman and her eyes suggesting the great depths of her experience. "An attack now would only exacerbate the situation, and more lives would be lost on both sides. I'm sorry Salazar, but we cannot do what you ask. I will not allow the cycle of violence to perpetuate itself, no matter the cause."

The final speaker was unmistakably Ravenclaw, the elegant Founder looking exactly as she did in Cho's own visions. "We should also consider that a reprisal against the Muggles might heighten their watchfulness, and more innocents could get burned at the stake as a result. It'll send every Muggle within a hundred miles of Essex stocking up on torches." Her nails dug into the palm of her hand, signifying the tension of the debate. "No one deserves a fate like those girls suffered, but now is not the right opportunity to strike."

"But when, pray tell?" Salazar demanded. "How many victims will it take before we take action? I know these people, Rowena, and simply hiding from them and closing our eyes will not solve the problem. We must actively confront this bigotry and work to neutralize it."

"I know full well of the danger they pose, Salazar!" Rowena snapped, her lovely face flushed with anger and something akin to fear. "There is no need to remind me of that. All the same, I will not support you in this. This school is a place of learning and of hope; I'll not sully it through discussion of plots and vengeance."

"You accuse me of befouling this school? You were the one who suggested permitting Muggleborns be allowed admittance, Rowena, not I!" Salazar roared back. "You bring these spawn of murderers into the halls of Hogwarts, and yet you have the gall to accuse me of defiling it?"

"Please calm yourselves, everyone," Godric pleaded, raising his hands in a gesture of appeasement and conciliation, leaving Cho amazed at the diplomatic role he appeared to be taking. The way he addressed Slytherin seemed to indicate a great deal of respect and friendship between the two men, and to hear his fellow Founder speak in such a way left pangs of hurt colouring his voice. "We've put in several hours into this discussion, and I don't think we can break the deadlock now. Perhaps we might retire, so that we can bring afresh on the morrow?"

Hufflepuff nodded in assent. "Godric is right. We still have the school to run, after all, and we cannot afford to be distracted from our primary concern, namely educating the students. And I will not consent to murder, Salazar, no matter the justification. While your passions are well-intended, what you ask us to do is wrong, and I will have no part in it."

"So that's how you're going to disguise your cowardice, Helga, with the language of morality?" Salazar demanded wildly. "These were children, _children_ that burned at the stake, the very people we have sworn to educate and defend. And you, Godric, I expected better of you. The youngest victim was a girl named Abigail, the miller's daughter. Thirteen years old and never live to see another day. I'm sure your moral impulses are of great consolation to her."

"Salazar, have done!" Godric shouted, rapidly losing patience with his friend.

"No, I will not be silent!" Slytherin snapped back. "There are times in which I wonder who you're really fighting for, Godric, and the answer doesn't bode well!" Leaving the harsh accusation hanging rank in the air like sulphur, the Founder stormed out, ignoring the protestations and calls for calm that followed in his wake. Cho found herself drawn towards Salazar, the visions and memories presented leaving her little alternative but to follow him. It was a bewildering sensation, despite her past experience with the blood-visions. No more than two hundred strides from the meeting, Salazar pressed his back against the corridor wall, rubbing the bridge of his nose to relieve the tension. "Why won't they understand?"

"Perhaps it is because you won't give them a chance," came Ravenclaw's soft voice echoing down the hall. Cho had been so focused on monitoring Slytherin that the arrival of her blood-kin was entirely unexpected. The burning anger that had infused her features had yet to fully subside, and she spoke to her comrade with a measure of disappointment in her voice. "Sometimes I mistake you for Godric with that fury in your heart, Salazar. The two of you are more alike than you might think. He tries so hard to defend you when you act like this, so it was quite a shock to hear you speak to him in such a manner."

"Attempting to guilt me into breaking my resolve, Rowena?" Salazar retorted angrily, instantly regretting the outburst. "My apologies, Rowena, I should not have let my temper get the better of me. It's just that…"

"It's frustrating sometimes, I know," Rowena said, taking a step towards her comrade. "But you must remember that the actions of a few Muggles are simply that, the actions of a few. The many should not have to suffer for their ignorance."

Salazar shook his head wearily. "I have tried to control my prejudices, Rowena, both for the sake of the school and our friendship, but every time I feel like peace is possible between both sides, Muggles commit another atrocity and I am forced back to my original position. We have to take a stand against them, or else we will all be overrun. Peace is worthless if it does not guarantee security."

"That is a fair argument," Rowena stated, "but consider the tactical implications. We do not have a force sufficient to protect the magical community of this country; we barely have enough able wands as it is. And for centuries now, our kind has survived against the Muggles by running and hiding, not by fighting. Perhaps one day, we will have that power, but even then, we must use it wisely. You are a good friend, Salazar, and your quick thinking has aided the school on many occasions." Her voice rose to a defiant pitch. "Still, what you argued for at the meeting is wrong on many levels, and the way you treated Helga and Godric only worsened the situation. As a friend and a peer in the study of magic, I'm asking you to soothe your choler before you do something foolish."

Cho half-expected Slytherin to explode in rage, but the Founder grimly nodded instead, a look of regret settling upon him. "For your sake, lovely Rowena, I shall do my best. Please, extend my apologies to the others. It would be best to repair the damage as soon as possible."

Rowena shook her head. "That's something only you can do, Salazar. If your friendship with Godric and Helga is so important, then you must take the opportunity to apologize yourself, to correct your mistake."

Slytherin gave a small bow, evidently deferring to his associate's wisdom. "Very well then. I shall bid you goodnight. And thank you."

Distinctly surprised, Ravenclaw returned the valediction. Once Rowena had turned the corner, however, Salazar returned to his grim mask, swiftly making his way down the corridor and entering the second-floor girl's lavatory, his feet splashing in a pool of stagnant water. The bathroom was nearly identical to the one in Cho's time, and the conditions had not improved over the past thousand years. A dank chill settled over the room, and the primitive plumbing established during the castle's construction was somewhat faulty despite the restorative magicks placed upon it. With a sudden, horrifying glimpse, Cho realized what Slytherin intended to do.

Approaching the central sink that dominated much of the chamber, Salazar began to hiss, the sibilant tones of Parseltongue sending a shiver down Cho's spine. A grating creak sounded, and the sink began to open up, the stone basin parting to reveal a pitch-black tunnel. Slytherin jumped in without hesitation and the vision dragged Cho along with him, the beautiful Ravenclaw crying out in shock and excitement as she slid through the tunnel, her elbows colliding on the cold stone. Landing with a solid bump at the bottom, she quickly recovered and pursued the Founder, ignoring the assorted rat bones and broken masonry that obstructed her path. The Chamber of Secrets was just like Harry had described it to her, a vast, cavernous series of catacombs, the walls slick with moisture and bioluminescent fungus, the echo of falling water sounding from a dozen different sources, and the air itself foul with Dark magic.

As Cho entered the main chamber, she recoiled at the Dark presence energizing the place, the taste of corruption and malice almost palpable. At a finely built altar of back marble stood Slytherin, weaving his wand in tight, detailed arcs, luminous green energy gushing from its tip. Placed upon the altar were two rather mundane and unimpressive objects; a simple chicken egg placed beneath the weight of a spotted green toad, common to any of the region's marshland. The toad, perhaps realizing what was happening, hopped away onto the chamber floor as the egg it had nurtured began to crack. Cho saw Slytherin's face light up with glee, and he redoubled his efforts, amplifying the spell cast upon the egg. "Arise, Lord of the Serpents, arise! Your master calls! It was I who raised you, and it was I who cast the spells that ensured your birth! Obey!"

The egg split apart, and out came a tiny snake, still covered in slime, its forked tongue tasting of the magic surrounding it. To Cho's astonishment, the creature grew under the influence of Slytherin's incantation, muscled coils bursting forth and twisting, becoming larger and larger by the moment. Its tail slapped the ground as would an angry dog, shattering stone beneath the awesome weight. Fangs the length of steak knives sprouted in its jaw, and its mouth opened wide in a furious, animal scream. Dark, obsidian scales covered the length of its body, and burning red eyes glared pupil-less and malevolent. In thirty seconds time, the Basilisk had emerged from newborn to full-grown, from a relatively harmless beast to a full-fledged monster, the aging process accelerated drastically by the spells of its creator. Cho stood awestruck and terrified in its presence; all of Harry's stories involving the Chamber of Secrets insufficient to depict the true horror of the beast within.

Shrieking in fury, the Basilisk reared up and leaned towards its creator, their gazes locked together in a primal test of wills. A single glance from the serpent was fatal, while its gaze reflected in a mirror or pool of water induced Petrification. By all rights, Slytherin should have been struck down instantly, horribly slain by the creature's fell stare. Yet, inexplicably, Salazar remained unharmed, the Founder no more affected by the Basilisk's ocular assault than he would by the gaze of a blushing maiden. The serpent screamed in frustration, its breath laced with the stench of rotting meat and Dark magic, causing Cho's stomach to curdle, but Slytherin remained unmoved.

At last, the creature relented, resting its head upon the stone floor, bowing before the greater power of its creator. A tremor of power entered Slytherin's voice as he spoke, mingling Parseltongue and English together, allowing Cho to understand every word. "This school faces many challenges, with foes both within and without. The threat of Muggle subversion is a constant one, and I fear that the gentleness and compassion of the others will be our undoing. Thus, I have created you, a weapon of last resort against the enemies that assail us. If ever this school should fall to outside invasion, or be overcome by treachery near to our hearts, you are to scour the interlopers from these halls and ensure they do not survive to enjoy their victory. Only those bearing my blood and my tongue may command you; the enchantments that I have cast will ensure that. Maintain your vigil, and be prepared to purge the unclean from this place!"

A loathsome hiss of assent reverberated from the creature's throat and it moved towards the deep pool at the end of the chamber, great coils scraping over the stone like sandpaper. Hissing and spitting as it went, the Basilisk entered the mouth of the great stone face etched and chiselled into the wall, moving sinuously into the nest prepared for it. Slytherin stalked out of the chamber and the vision swirled around Cho, turning and twisting into a new form.

* * *

Another vision, this time of the battlefield at Bohsenfels. Slytherin stood upon his horse, howling in exhilaration as he cleaved through the undead ranks with the Adder's Bite. His face was full of glee as he brought the energies of the Founders to bear, scattering the assembled horrors in the flames and leaving only dust behind. Around him, the other Founders and their assembled forces struggled ferociously against the undead, the light of spells and flaming arrows searing the darkened sky like a Muggle fireworks display. A cry of joy boiled out of his throat as he summoned a stream of illusionary swordsmen to distract Nehek's hordes using his newfound powers, and the look in his eyes told Cho that the addictive properties of the magic had firmly seized his mind. Decaying hands clawed at Slytherin's horse, dragging it under the sea of Inferius, but the Founder himself was not so easily brought down, his axe destroying an undead warrior with every stroke.

A hundred meters away, Nehek stuck Hufflepuff's mount with the Destroyer of Worlds, her shocked cries drawing Slytherin's attention. Leaping to the aid of his fellow Founder, Slytherin brought the Adder's Bite down in a massive stroke, aiming the battleaxe at the Lichemaster's dark helm. Nehek responded with the daemonblade, parrying the blow and replying with a powerful slash of his own. The runes adorning both weapons burned brightly as they collided, and Slytherin was thrown aside by the impact, catapulting a dozen feet away onto the blood-soaked ground, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. Immediately set upon by the undead, Salazar attempted weakly to fend them off, still stunned by the Lichemaster's attack and unable to bring the energies of the Founders to bear.

Then Hufflepuff appeared, bruised and cut by the numberless hordes but still fighting. Her twin blades flashed like quicksilver in her hands, cutting down Inferius as they approached, slipping under their clumsy guard and swiftly dispatching them. Cho's eyes widened as Helga used the energies of the Founders to accelerate her movements to superhuman speeds. Used in conjunction with the mystic flame and her versatile and powerful wand-based spells, Hufflepuff cleared a path towards Slytherin, who had gratefully taken the opportunity to recover. The battle raged on around them as the remnants of the keep's garrison joined in the fighting; Cho's sharp eyes catching the look of disgust that crossed Slytherin's face as he saw their Muggle allies carve through the undead ranks. The ensuing duel between Gryffindor and Nehek caught her attention for a moment, her apprehension dissipated by the fact she had already witnessed these events and knew the outcome.

"By the touch of Gaea, I had never hoped to see such a thing." Cho muted a gasp as Avalon came up behind her, the petite Spirit Walker looking somewhat the worse for wear after the incident began, but almost ignorant of her injuries. Instead, she remained wholly focused on the Lichemaster's zombified form, inhumanly bright eyes fixated on the dark magic of Nehek. "In the Temple, the Sages of the Cult often tell tales of the Lichemaster Nehek, the great necromancer who ravaged our old homeland in the time of Balthasar Firebrand. The annals of those Shadow Hunters who fell that day are still recorded in the Chamber of Life." She quailed for an instant as a lash of dark magic generated by the combat brushed past her, even the illusionary nature of the spell not enough to make her feel secure. "It's just as horrible as the stories say."

"Avalon!" Cho exclaimed, moving to check on the Spirit Walker. "When did you wake up?"

"Nary a few minutes ago," the yellow-eyed young woman replied, brushing off Cho's medical examination. "Don't worry, it's just a few bruises and scrapes. The psychic feedback left me stunned and disoriented for a while, but I'm alright now. I see that Slytherin's memories are on open display."

Cho raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they've been running for the past few minutes lately. Were you tipped off to this before somehow?"

Avalon nodded. "Unfortunately, that is the case. When the energies of Slytherin sparked, such was the power of the magic that all of my telepathic defences were shattered. In those moments, I felt _him_ enter my thoughts, angered by our intrusion and the presence of Gryffindor's line. His presence was so invasive I was forced to seal myself off from Legilimency intrusions to survive the full blow of the feedback."

"Slytherin entered your mind?" Cho asked, horrified. "And he's been lurking inside Blaise this whole time, hasn't he? The energies of Slytherin preserved some of his mind when it was passed on to his descendants, and now that the energies have been sparked…"

"Salazar will likely attempt to manipulate or seize control of Blaise's mind, so as to use her as a host."

Recalling Blaise's hateful words immediately after the energies sparked, Cho could only nod in agreement. "I think he has already, to be honest with you. Doubtless he's taking advantage of the magick's unpredictable nature to help him seize control. He'll never get an opportunity as good as this one. If Blaise manages to bring it in check, she'll be able to resist his influence from now on or utterly destroy what remains of his thoughts. We have to find her and end this now, before Slytherin takes full control. Can you use your telepathy to find out where she is?"

"Not entirely. The illusion being generated is a reflection of her thoughts, thus my telepathy thinks she's everywhere. I'll have to focus hard to find the source, and that shall take some time."

"Then start immediately," Cho snapped, far more harshly than she would have liked. "If Salazar gains control or pushes Blaise in the direction he wants, we'll have no chance of stopping her unless…unless we kill her. I – I don't think I'm ready to do that, so speed is our ally here. There has to be some way of cutting through this shite!"

"Stay calm," Avalon's cool voice was a soothing balm on the frustrations of the beautiful Ravenclaw. "Believe me, Miss Chang; I have no intention of failing now."

As the Lichemaster exploded in a burst of white light behind them, and the vision began to fade away, Cho could only ponder Slytherin's dark glare as Rowena and Godric embraced.

* * *

Cho groaned as the vision shifted a third time, closing her eyes to reduce the sensation of vertigo that accompanied the evolving memories. Avalon sat behind her, eyes closed in concentration, trying fruitlessly to determine Blaise's location. Deciding it would be wise not to distract her, Cho allowed her to continue seeking telepathically while she searched the old-fashioned way. As much as the beautiful Ravenclaw enjoyed a challenge, particularly those of the mind, this was extremely frustrating. The chamber in the North Tower was a small, confined space, but thanks to the illusions Blaise was generating, Cho could walk for seemingly ten kilometres before reaching the limits of the room, if at all. _Shifting reality_, she thought to herself, permitting herself to walk through the illusion for a few minutes before returning back to Avalon, so as not to leave her unguarded for more than necessary. _Isn't that what all magic does? Alter what is real and stretch those definitions?_ She'd have to consider the philosophical question later.

The first thing the Champion noticed when trekking through the illusion was the feeling of dead grass beneath her boots. Standing on a sizable hill overlooking a wooded vale, Cho witnessed a dying land. The nearby trees were covered in rot and fungus, withering the leaves and eating away at the trees themselves, while the birds and beasts that made them their homes either lay dead or had abandoned their nests. The position of the sun and general climate seemed to suggest summer, but the air was too cold and too dry, more of a winter's wind than that of midsummer. In the vale itself, the local village lay in ruins. Bodies had fallen in the mud-strewn alleys, cattle sickened in the fields and the crops stood rotten on the stalk. Many of the buildings were deserted, ruined places, their roofs caved in by hail and their doorways slick with blood. What appeared to be the old church had burned to the ground, a half-incinerated cross sat in a pile of damp ashes. Judging from the flickering lights of candles and quick flashes of movement, some of the villagers still survived in the remaining homes, though they remained barricaded behind boarded-up windows and sheltered themselves behind cloves of garlic and rosemary to ward off evil. Magic touched every plank and every blade of grass, foul in its corruption and rank with anger, signs of the Dark Arts through and through. Someone had cursed this town thoroughly, bringing about the multitudinous calamities that had befallen it.

Horse-hooves sounded on the nearby road, and Cho glanced to see Ravenclaw canter through the centre of town on a chestnut mare, dressed in fine-woven blue witch's robes and bearing the bow of Stormcrow across her chest. Her lovely brunette locks had been braided into elegant patterns, making her appear like a rich noblewoman or seeress. Blue eyes turned downcast as Rowena saw the devastation around her, and a cold frown descended upon her lips. Then a sound brought her attention to the hilltop, and she dug her heels into the horse's sides, sending it off at a gallop and throwing up clouds of dust from the primitive road.

Slytherin was waiting for her there at the top of the hill, shrouded in black robes with the Adder's Bite slung across his back. "I'm glad to see that you received my message, Rowena," he said with genuine warmth, extending a hand to the lovely Founder. "I hope your ride wasn't-"

"Spare me the pleasantries, Salazar!" Rowena hissed, slapping his hand away as she gazed upon him with contempt and revulsion. "What in the world are you trying to accomplish here? Murder, destruction, defilement of the land! I have seen all of the villages that lay within twenty leagues of this place, and everywhere I see your evil acts! What in the world could justify this madness?"

"Madness?" Slytherin queried, the angular lines of his face and the dark shadow of his beard giving him an even more haunting appearance. "It is not madness, Rowena. It is a Killing Curse to the brain of a corrupt and ignorant society! It is retribution for _centuries_ of persecution, every witch-burning, every pogrom and every act of genocide committed against our people! I have suffered under your way for long enough, Rowena. Too many have suffered because _you_ chose not to intervene! The words of appeasement have only emboldened the Muggles and many acts which would not have occurred did, thanks to your cowardice. The time for war has come, and Wizarding Britain looks to a new leader to guide it though the fires; _me_. You and the others will not stand in my way again."

Rowena was understandably livid. "How dare you. How _dare you!_ So that's all we are to you then, Salazar, mere obstacles in your path? Helga loved you, Salazar, and you have taken her camaraderie and affection and torn them to ribbons without any _consideration_ of what you mean to her. And as for Godric, he can barely speak your name, and then only with hatred. The bonds of friendship between you were unbreakable and beneficial, yet you cast them into the winds all the same. We gave you our friendship, our trust and our support, and you spat upon them without a second thought. If you shared in our dream whatsoever, you'll put a stop to this right now."

"And where were you when the Muggles rampaged through this region, seizing every witch or wizard they could find for execution? What were Godric and Helga doing when our people had no one left to defend them?" Slytherin's wild demands reached a fever pitch now. "Where were you when my _family _died?"

This proclamation definitely startled Ravenclaw. "Salazar, I had no idea…"

"Genevieve died immediately, or so I was told, trying to protect the children from the witch-hunters. By the time I returned from meeting the Hill-Shamans delegation, the Muggles had already started burning Katrina. She was barely alive after I slew the Muggles and freed her, a four-year old girl too young to use the magic and they killed her for it all the same. You have the healing power, you're the most experienced in medicine, so why weren't you there?"

"If I had known, Salazar, I would have come straight away," Ravenclaw protested, somewhat frightened by the turn of events, and how they had affected her former friend. "When you left the school with Genevieve three years ago, we completely lost contact. It's almost as if you didn't want to be found."

Salazar gave a wistful, yet humourless smile. "Thomas is gone, possibly fled and I can't seem to find him. My gaunt little one, probably so terrified after what happened he's taken flight to the ends of the earth. You ask me as to why I assault them? I must ask you, my darling Ravenclaw, as to why you defend them after all their misdeeds and sins, crimes of the Lichemaster's calibre or of the Dark wizards I have faced in the past. Your inaction and your appeasement have let this evil spread for far too long, so unless you have any intention of aiding me, then stand aside."

"But the villages!" Rowena gasped. "They've been cursed with Dark magic, Salazar, the very thing you once said you loathed. You've gone beyond simply studying the Dark Arts to find ways to combat them, haven't you? You are using them openly now, despite our attempts to warn you. Salazar, any form of magic is corruptive when misused, but the Dark Arts poison everything they touch, regardless of intention!"

"I will use any weapon necessary to defend our people, woman!" Salazar screamed back, causing Rowena to jump in shock. "Do not judge what lies beyond your power, Rowena. Yes, I do use the Dark Arts in the defence of our people, as I use the energies granted to us from the grotto! The magic granted to use on that day is a living thing, full of passion and intelligence, as well as a hatred for all things Dark. When I started using the Dark Arts more often, I thought that the energies would kill me for they were so enraged! Yet I have mastered _both_ powers, wielding the Light-based energies of the grotto and the Dark Arts in conjunction where a lesser wizard would find himself destroyed by the reaction! This power is _mine_, Rowena, you have no claim to it. Nor do you have any claim to the moral high ground here. The Grand Crusade is about to begin, and I will not be dissuaded from my task."

Slytherin mounted the crest of the hill, extending his arm over to the west. "I have received word that Godric has marshalled an army against me, this Order of the Phoenix; his pet Muggles, those Shadow Hunter fanatics and whatever blood-traitors he's managed to scrape together to fight for him. They've made camp about ten miles from here and I am fully aware he's going to try and stop me, but it's a doomed effort. I know that he has some four thousand all told; Muggle knights and men-at-arms, local trappers, goblin warbands, Shadow Hunters and some of the Aurors given to him by the Wizengamot. Do you know how many warriors I possess, Rowena darling?" When the lovely Founder did not reply, Slytherin answered his question. "Somewhere in the range of ten-thousand, my dear. Mostly beastmen and werewolves, creatures that have long been persecuted and hunted by the Muggles just as we are. As for wizards, I have perhaps four score? Maybe more, but certainly enough to match whoever Godric's bringing. I'm surprised he did not empty Hogwarts of its students and press them into service against me."

"He tried," Rowena croaked, the tears now spilling forth. "Helga and I, however, were able to talk some sense into him." She cried for a moment, casting aside decorum, too overwhelmed with emotion to even consider it. "Please, Salazar, for the love of Merlin, you must stop this! We're your family! We've taught and lived and worked and fought together, and accomplished so much in so short a time. Please do not abandon us."

"My family?" Salazar shouted. "You were never a part of my family, Rowena! Family members trust each other! Respect each other! Defend each other above all else! Yet, from my time at Hogwarts, I never experienced those things. You and Godric were too busy rutting like hogs in the summer heat, and Helga was too concerned with molly-coddling every stray Mudblood brat that darkened our doorstep! I have a new family now. Care to meet them?"

Rowena's bright blue eyes widened as dark-cloaked figures emerged out of thin air, surrounding the two Founders, dozens of them materializing in the space of a few moments. With all the bearing and emotion of statues, Slytherin's followers assembled around their leader, bowing before him respectfully. "Behold, Rowena, the Knights of Walpurgis!" he crowed, laughing heartily at the sight of his comrades-in-arms. "With the power of the Dark Arts at their command, nothing can stop them, stop _me_. We are going to defend our people, not matter the cost." He paused for a moment, as if considering his words. "You might consider joining us in our Grand Crusade."

"Me?"

"Yes, Rowena, you," Salazar replied, taking her hand in his own, ignoring her discomfort. "A new dawn is rising for Wizardkind, and I will not have you left behind without proper warning. You are too knowledgeable and powerful to be wasted, and we shall need every resource we can muster to fight back the tides of Muggle filth. Submit to the Grand Crusade, Rowena, and I will make you a member of my High Council, to rule over the lands I give you and aid my in directing my empire. Your efforts at training the next generation of spellcasters have been squandered on a pack of Mudblood wretches; I will give you the pureblood students you so rightly deserve, those worthy of receiving instruction. With our combined skills and guidance, our magical power will grow fivefold, tenfold! All this can be yours. All you need to do is assent and obey, Rook of the West."

"Salazar…"

"You deserve the world, Rowena, not a life as Godric's whore and the matron of a school full of ungrateful brats!" Slytherin insisted ferociously, caressing her cheek with a gloved hand. "And I can give it to you," he said, leaning forward and kissing her with uncommon softness, seemingly unaware of the tears that poured down her face. Monitoring the vision, Cho fumed angrily, disgusted that such a vile wretch would even consider accosting her ancestor in such a fashion. "What say you, Rowena?"

Ravenclaw sighed remorsefully. "It appears I have no choice," she said, gazing deeply into Slytherin's eyes for a moment. The moment passed, and then she struck.

Slytherin screamed in agony as the energies of Ravenclaw slammed into him with full strength, throwing him a dozen feet like a hay bale. A second attack caught the rogue Founder before he recovered, hammering him into the dirt, leaving his flesh scalded and his robes burnt. Hovering on an energy thermal, Rowena's eyes glowed inhumanly blue as the fire raced around her, waves of anger emanating from the sorceress. A casual observer might mistake her for some ancient Greek Fury, and Slytherin's followers backed away in shock at the surprised attack, stupefied by her incredible powers. "I suggest you submit now, Salazar, or face the consequences!" she demanded in a voice capable of commanding God. "I will not let you destroy all that we have accomplished! I will not let you throw our people into the darkness of ignorance, never to emerge again!"

The Knights of Walpurgis rose up, wands blazing with green light. Rowena cast them aside with a devastating wave of force, scattering them like fallen leaves in a gale. "Stand aside!" she screamed, sending the energies of Ravenclaw lancing forth, devouring the closest of Slytherin's followers in blue flames. Drawing her wand, Rowena cast a complex enchantment over another three Knights, transfiguring them into sheep, their cries of panic warped into bleating as the spell took effect. One of the more adventurous Dark wizards took aim at the Founder, discharging a Killing Curse. Ravenclaw propelled herself to one side, the words of power spilling from her lips. The skies darkened above her and the Knight screamed in pain as a murder of crows descended upon him, clawing and tearing at his vulnerable face and eyes. She seemed more like a force of nature than a witch, desecrating the enemy ranks as might a hurricane, giving no quarter or respite. Cho marvelled at her ancestor's strength and prowess, and thought for a brief moment that she might actually win this fight.

Then Slytherin came to his feet, green fire striking Rowena and ricocheting off her magical shields, forcing the Founder back and blowing a small crater in the soil. A Cruciatus Curse followed, penetrating through the woman's weakened defences and striking home, leaving Ravenclaw writhing on the ground in agony. His face twisted in rage, Slytherin stood over the prone Founder's body, reapplying the curse and savouring her shrieks of pain. "You had your chance to aid me, Rowena! You could have been given power and taken your rightful place as a true leader of the Wizarding World! But now, thanks to your treachery and your faithlessness, you shall suffer all the punishments given out to blood-traitors! You will die screaming, and Godric will-". Salazar's enraged ranting was cut short with a bellow of pain as Ravenclaw thrust the spear of Stormcrow into his right leg, cutting through the tough leather and digging deep into the flesh. Distracted by the pain, Slytherin was caught completely unawares by his foe's Blasting Curse, and was catapulted away. Drawing the Adder's Bite, Slytherin just managed to parry her spear-thrust, the clash of their weapons sending up bright sparks. "Leave her to me!" he commanded to his followers, dozens of black-robed Dark wizards cautiously approaching the battle like vultures after a kill. "It is well within my power to deal with one lone woman."

"Very well then, Salazar; let that be your epitaph!" Ravenclaw retorted, swinging her spear about her and etching a line in the soil, much as Cho did before battle. Slytherin took the invitation, charging forth and bringing his axe in a crushing blow, hoping to cleave her in half with a single stroke. Ravenclaw brought the spearhaft up across her body, the enchanted weapon absorbing the blow where a mundane spear would shatter instantly. The fury and passion of Slytherin's attack forced her backwards, unable to properly bring the spear to bear as the rogue Founder pressed the offensive. Raising a hand, Rowena discharged a flare of blue light into the eyes of her enemy, causing him to reel in agony, temporarily blinded. Capitalizing on this manoeuvre, she struck, arcing the blade of the spear towards Slytherin's neck. By some twist of fate, Slytherin managed to avoid the attack, hands blazing with power. Rowena leapt aside as snakes sprouted at her feet like grass, fangs dripping with venom as they lunged for the sorceress. Cauterising the area with the energies of Ravenclaw, she weaved a countering incantation, solidifying the air hanging over Slytherin's head and literally dropping the sky on him. Letting his shield absorb the attack, Slytherin pushed the assault, hacking and cleaving away with the Adder's Bite. Rowena evaded his wild attack easily, a harsh, mocking smile appearing on her lips. "For all your disdain of Muggles, my dear Salazar, you're certainly not above using their weapons and tactics. Your Crusade has barely begun, and it's already mired in your hypocrisies."

His face burning with anger, Salazar maintained his offensive, each subsequent blow striking only air, enraging him even further. "The Adder's Bite is a weapon of mages, imbued with the power of the grotto and wielded by a master wizard! The Muggles have no claim to it!"

Rowena side-stepped Slytherin's next strike, driving Stormcrow deep into his side with a practiced, professional lunge. Unheeding his wounded cries, Ravenclaw twisted the blade in the injury before unleashing the energies of the Founders a final time, engulfing Slytherin in a cyclone of fire. Rowena grimaced as the flames began to consume her enemy, and maintained her focus, hoping to finish him off for good. "To think that I would _debase_ myself by siding with you! You're a monster, Salazar, no different than-"

Without warning, the Cruciatus Curse struck Ravenclaw hard, breaking her concentration and causing the energies to die down. As Slytherin staggered away, badly burnt by the magic, his saviour stormed in, sending another Cruciatus Curse to strike home. Dressed in the black robes of the Knights of Walpurgis, the woman faced Ravenclaw with a zealous glare on her well-formed face, her gossamer blonde hair caught in the wind and her wand burning harshly under the magic's light. Examining the figure closely, Cho was amazed at the resemblance between the woman and Blaise, and knew that this was the Slytherin girl's maternal ancestor. "You will not harm my_ master!_" she screamed, unleashing a Blasting Curse that cast Rowena to the wind. "We are the true scions of the Wizarding World, and none may defy our wrath! We're through with your pacifism and your cowardice, for it has aided no one. Tonight, we take back what is rightfully ours!"

Stunned and weakened from the surprised attack, Ravenclaw was forced down on one knee, somewhat overwhelmed by the ranks of Dark wizards who moved in for the kill. "The path of the Great Crusade will only end up destroying the Wizarding World, not liberating it!"

As the energies of Ravenclaw built up within her, the Founder suddenly collapsed, rendered senseless by a blow from Slytherin, the solid oak haft of the Adder's Bite falling upon her skull. Salazar laughed, spitting on his fallen foe and seizing her by the hair, letting her unconscious head dangle in his grasp before letting her fall to the ground. "As you can see, Rowena, darling, these Muggle weapons do have some purpose after all!" he chuckled, accompanied by the cackling of his Knights. "My thanks, Marian. Truly, you are the most loyal and powerful of my servants, a witch of true greatness."

The woman Marian bowed her head low, kneeling before the first of the Dark Lords. "I merely did my duty, Lord. It requires no praise or acknowledgement, and knowing I have helped to preserve the Grand Crusade is enough for me. You freed me from the vile confines of that Muggle dungeon, and many others besides! I still owe you a great debt and this does not balance the scales."

"Perhaps," Slytherin said, lifting her chin up so they faced each other, a wicked, deceitful smile materializing and making the black-bearded wizard seem like the Devil himself. "But doubtless your actions today deserve some manner of reward, perhaps at my tent tonight?

As the girl's eyes widened, another Knight knelt over to examine the fallen Ravenclaw. "What shall we do with this one, my Lord?" he asked, running a hand through her brunette locks. "It would be a shame to simply kill her…"

"Enough, Lestrange," Slytherin replied sharply, the tone of his voice causing the Dark wizard to back away. "Leave her on the road where Gryffindor's pet Muggles might find her. The Dark Lord Slytherin is capable of displaying mercy when needed, and Rowena's abilities may yet be needed in the future. Should she deny me fealty again, then we shall destroy her. Besides, we have nothing to lose by letting Godric know something of our strength. It will only serve to weaken the resolve of his forces, fan the flames of his temper and provoke him into rashness, all of which service our cause."

The man addressed as Lestrange nodded, binding Ravenclaw with a complex spell and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Turning his attention back to Marian, Salazar grinned broadly. "It is a good omen indeed. A foe routed, an army assembled and the most faithful of my followers here at my side. Yes, my victory is fast approaching, and I would like to take the moment to celebrate our good fortune with you, my dear. The wizarding messiah has come, and tomorrow will see our enemies crushed like the insects they are."

* * *

Gloom settled around Cho, capricious and unforgiving, as the vision transmuted a final time, worn limestone blocks assembling around her rapidly, forming into walls, towers and archways. This was not Hogwarts though; the warmth, comfort and security that defined the school were entirely devoid from this place. Here was not a place of learning, but of punishment and imprisonment, the sea air bringing the taste of regret upon Cho's lips. Raised voices sounded down the corridor in a chorus of argument, signalling discord and imbued with anguish. Stalking down the hall, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw argued furiously, overcoming the dread stillness of the fortress and injecting chaotic life. "I don't understand why you are so opposed to this, Rowena!" Godric declared, fixing her with a cold stare. "You refused to allow me to kill him on the battlefield, so why is this alternative so distasteful for you?"

"Death would be a mercy to what you have conceived, Godric!" Rowena hurled back. "Slytherin deserves punishment, yes, but these creatures that you have created are simply beyond the pale! They reek of the precise evil that he engaged in, Dark magic and other horrors! Do not throw aside your code of honour now, especially when his threat is past."

"It is precisely because he engaged in such Dark acts that I created them," Godric defended himself. "The spellwork is fuelled as a result of his crimes. I thought it perfectly reasonable that those he murdered and persecuted should find their way back to haunt him."

"Reasonable?" It was plain as day that Rowena was disturbed by whatever retribution Godric had in mind. "These…things don't care whether they feed off of the emotions of Slytherin or others! They can't distinguish between guilty and innocent, and that's that makes them so dangerous!"

Hufflepuff took the opportunity to speak her peace. "I share some of your misgivings too, Rowena. But remember that Salazar brought this fate upon himself, and for the good of the Wizarding World, he must be contained and imprisoned. Every tool at our disposal must be used, whether it is the Null Stone you recovered, or Godric's Dementors."

"But the Null Stone already cripples Salazar's magical powers, reducing him to the state of a Squib! He's already become what he despises, and this prison has been built stoutly, so he shall not escape. Let him sit here and rot for the rest of his life; there is no need for your creations."

Hufflepuff looked aghast. "Have you forgotten what he did, Rowena? The battles, the pillaging, the campaign of annihilation? Perhaps we are acting in bad faith here, and if that is the case, then I will accept the cost to my soul. But the fact remains that we have barely recovered from the damages he inflicted, and the Muggles are more wary than ever of our presence. Should Salazar escape, he'll raise another army of fanatics and begin his Grand Crusade again, at the cost of even more lives. We must take every precaution to prevent that from happening, as distasteful as these Dementors are."

"Enough!" Godric barked, drawing incredulous glares from both women. "It's been decided. I will use the Dementors to guard over Slytherin, both as punishment for his monstrous crimes and to ensure his continued imprisonment. Do not presume to override me, Rowena, for I have devoted myself to defending the Wizarding and Muggle worlds from whatever threats assail them, Slytherin included, and nothing shall sway me from this course!"

"Interestingly enough, Godric, I heard Salazar spout quite similar rhetoric during his campaign," Rowena snapped back. "You're becoming just like him; engaging in the foulest of acts for what you think are the noblest of goals, neither of you capable of considering your actions or allowing the slightest dissent. You're letting your zeal override your reason and the Dementors are the result."

Godric faced his lover with rage in his heart, leaving Cho to suspect that violence was inevitable. Rowena was right; Gryffindor's actions were motivated by the best of intentions, but it did not excuse the drastic and immoral steps he had taken. "You dare compare my works with his, insinuate that I am in the wrong!" the Founder shouted indignantly, stung by her words.

"You've taken the spirits of Slytherin's victims and warped them into weapons who feed off of the souls of others. By Merlin, you're in the wrong!"

A harsh, demented cackle emerged from a nearby cell, interrupting Gryffindor's rebuttal. "You should really listen to her, friend Godric," Slytherin said, giving another burst of crazed laughter. "These creatures you've created are just so monstrous and foul; hardly becoming of a noble wizard like yourself. I'm actually surprised you had it in you. I clearly underestimated your resolve."

Godric rapped the cell door soundly. "Be silent, Slytherin. You should be thanking us for our mercy in imprisoning you. Your new jailers are on their way, so I'd advise you hold your tongue. They will not pay heed to your sarcasm or trickery."

"For Merlin's sake, I'll not stand by and watch you do this," Rowena declared, choked with grief for their lost and shattered brotherhood. "I'm not going to stay in this hellhole for an instant longer!"

This outburst of emotion incited another chuckle from the imprisoned Dark wizard. "And Rowena, always the weak one. I'll grant you a swift death once I've escaped from this place, my dear, since you're no longer necessary. You haven't won this battle, Godric, I've been in worse places than this and still gotten out, and the seeds of another Grand Crusade have already been sown. You won't be able to stop us, Godric, not if you were to resist for a thousand years!"

"That's enough, I'm sending forth the Dementors," Godric said, his noble brow tensed in anger. "Damn him for forcing me to do this."

"Merlin grant that we are doing the right thing," came Hufflepuff's reply.

Dark shadows emerged from down the corridors as the Dementors arrived, poisoning the air with a sense of despair and hopelessness. The two remaining Founders began to move off and the inhuman sentries moved to take their place, sending screams echoing throughout the dungeon as their dark auras began to take effect, conjuring Merlin knew what manner of horrid visions. Cho flinched at the presence of the Dementors, her discomfort interrupted by the voice of Avalon in her mind. _I have found her, Cho Chang_, the Spirit Walker declared, the sudden telepathic intrusion a sizable shock to the beautiful Ravenclaw. _She stands but two metres to the left of your position, at an angle of thirty degrees. Her thoughts are conflicted, so it seems she is struggling against Slytherin's presence, and her reserves are almost drained. Sheer exhaustion may quell the energies of Slytherin in the end, but she may not survive the process. I'm going to stun her with a non-lethal psychic attack in order to give you an opening. You must help her to bring the energies of Slytherin in check, Cho, or the consequences will be dire for all of us. Prepare yourself_.

Complying with her unseen companion's suggestions, Cho eyed the indicated position with trepidation, beckoning the magic to her, calling it awake. It amazed the intelligent Ravenclaw that Blaise could create so much detail in such a small space, and that her powers hadn't burned out from the strain by this point. The time for history lessons was over, however. Time to stop being a student and start being a Champion.

The quickly-conceived plan was executed with tremendous speed, so swiftly that Cho would have missed it had she blinked. In the position Avalon had indicated, Blaise cried out in pain and the illusions dissipated around her, allowing the harsh stone walls and floor of the tower to emerge, chipped and shattered by the competing spellwork. Cho rushed forward, the distance between them shrinking to nothing in an instant, her hands shielded with the energies of Ravenclaw. Sparks crackled as she seized Blaise's wrists, the magic colliding and reacting violently against each other. "Blaise, it's me!" Cho shouted, maintaining her firm grip as the girl twisted and struggled, her beautiful blue eyes wide with fright. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to take control before you get yourself killed."

"He's in my mind!" Blaise wailed, only intensifying her attempts to escape the beautiful Ravenclaw's hold. "I can't keep fighting him, Cho. The magic is so…_beautiful_, and he's so cruel and I want the power. I _need_ the power. I want to feel strong again, better than what I am now."

"I understand what you're feeling," Cho stated. "But you can take control, Blaise. We have known each other for some time by now, and I know that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, and that you never back away from a challenge. Salazar Slytherin is a phantom, a shade of a dark past, not a living person. _You can do this._"

Blaise gave a small sob. "You don't understand, Cho. I know who and what I am now. I'm a predator; it's in my blood, it's in my history. To deny this power and the will to use it is to deny myself and who I am." Her voice lowered to a deadly whisper. "Now step aside or suffer the consequences."

"So you intend to kill me then? Have you sacrificed your reason and free will so quickly to become a puppet of Salazar?" Cho shot back, her powerful mind working fast, conjuring a shrewd, if hasty plan. "I truly believed you were better than that."

"My apologies for disappointing you, sweetheart. Again, I ask you to stand aside."

Relinquishing her hold, Cho stepped back several paces, but remained in Blaise's path, holding her arms at her sides in a relaxed fashion. Letting the flames of Ravenclaw die out, the young woman engaged her risky scheme. "You know I can't let you into the greater castle while you're in this state, so I guess you're going to have to kill me. Bend over for Grandpa Slytherin and do it; otherwise, quit wasting my time."

The seconds oozed away like Muggle cement without a move from Blaise. Swiftly, Cho realized by deliberately lowering her defences and making herself vulnerable to attack, she was having an effect on the willowy Slytherin's psyche, forcing her conscience and personality to resist Salazar's control. "Well, I'm not going to stop you, Blaise. If you're such a bad person, trapped by the weaknesses of your lineage, then you should have no trouble killing me. A single strike from the magic you so adore is all that it will take."

"Cho!" A single glance told her that Harry was up and moving again with Avalon at his side, channelling the energies of Gryffindor within himself and preparing to strike.

"Wait!" came Cho's hiss, raising a hand for restraint. Turning her attention back to Blaise, she continued her verbal ministrations, hoping to capitalize on these gains. "Do you know why you haven't killed me at this point? Because, Blaise Zabini, you are a better person than you realize; a woman of strength, of courage, and great force of will. You've already beaten him, Blaise, even if you don't even realize it."

"Cho!" Harry spoke again with a terrified urgency. "You need to get out of the line of fire, Cho; I won't be able to stop her while you're there!"

Inwardly, Cho just wanted to scream at the young Gryffindor for jeopardizing her efforts through his tender concern. While she normally considered herself fortunate to have such a caring man at her side, now was definitely not the time for his puppy-love. "Harry, stand down. Now. Don't argue with me; don't tell me how it's necessary for my own protection, just do it. The same with you, Avalon, don't disrupt this. Blaise deserves better than to be ambushed, even by those with the best of intentions."

Blaise's eyes, glowing vibrantly with the inner fire of Slytherin, widened as Harry and Avalon took Cho's warning to heart, assuming a non-threatening position and lowering their guard. Harry's breathing was heavy with tension and fear, and the beautiful Ravenclaw could see that he was wound almost as tight as Blaise, albeit with a stronger grip on reality. "See, Blaise? We trust you enough to let ourselves die if we're wrong. For all the power and dark cunning Slytherin offers, he can never give you friendship or love. The energies of the Founders are a useful tool, but only that; a tool. Please come back to us, Blaise. We need your help if Voldemort is to be defeated. Help us forge the future we've only dreamed of."

A tremendous shudder passed over the girl and tears blossomed like flowers after a summer rain. Deep within the willowy Slytherin's mind, Salazar screamed in anguish and despair, the wretched splinter cursing Blaise Zabini for all it was worth, wailing and gnashing in vain. Emboldened and reaffirmed by Cho's words, Blaise reclaimed control over herself, spitting angrily at her malevolent ancestor: _I will not be one of your pawns!_

And then it stopped; the fires of Slytherin flickered out and extinguished themselves, and Blaise collapsed in an exhausted, drained heap, saved a harsh fall by the arms of Cho that enveloped her in a cradling hug. Burying her face in the beautiful Ravenclaw's shoulder, Blaise wept unashamedly, ground down so much by the experience that even her determined psyche was reaching its limits. "Oh, Cho, I'm so sorry," she sobbed despondently, quaking in shock. "I honestly didn't mean it, but it just feel so good to have that much power all at once. I didn't want to hurt you or Harry, you must believe me!"

"Well, you could have fooled-" Harry snapped intensely, only to be silenced by an ice-cold glare from Cho that would have flayed the skin of his back. _Tonight, mister, you and I are going to have a talk,_ Cho thought in the young Gryffindor's direction. "Could someone please send for Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey?" she asked sweetly, becoming somewhat crestfallen when Harry swiftly volunteered.

Avalon walked up to the pair, kneeling before Blaise with hands raised. "May I perform a quick analysis?" she inquired with incredible tact and gentleness, receiving an affirmative nod from the willowy Slytherin. Closing her eyes, the Spirit Walker lightly touched the girl's face, the physical contact aiding her to an extent in scanning through her mind. "No trace of Salazar Slytherin's memory-fragments remain to pollute your mind, Miss Zabini. My theory was right; this was his only opportunity to seize control over you and he failed. I am certain that he will not be able to trouble you further, even when you use the energies of Slytherin again."

"That is most definitely a relief," Blaise sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm getting kind of tired now," she said in a little girl's voice. "Mind if I take a rest?"

"You've earned it, Blaise," Cho whispered, stroking the girl's hair as she started to drift off. "There's nothing to be ashamed of; we're all safe and the day has been won. No one blames you for anything."

Blaise gave an uncertain, resigned smile. "If you say so…" she muttered, falling asleep almost instantly.

Moments later, and far more quickly than expected, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, fretting up a storm and almost shoving Cho out of the way as she moved to administer her care to the unconscious Champion of Slytherin. Dumbledore followed, almost serene in his benevolent majesty, radiating waves of concern for his young charges. "It appears that your experiment did not progress as planned, Miss Chang. I hope that none of you were seriously injured over the course of the evening."

"Fortunately not," Cho informed him, noticing Harry standing over by himself and looking quite miserable. Resolving to check in on him when time permitted, she asked, "Personally, Professor, I expected it would take some time before you arrived to assist. Not that I'm ungrateful, of course…"

"In truth, we were on our way here long before Harry approached us with word of the sparking," Dumbledore explained. "The castle's wards detected the energies of Slytherin sparking almost immediately, though our progress was hindered by Blaise's magical illusions extending beyond the confines of the North Tower. We had a battle between illusionary Inferius and the enchanted suits of armour raging throughout the castle, but you managed to stop her before anyone was hurt. For that, you must be commended, Miss Chang. The experience was a disorienting and confusing one, but you kept a level head and prevented the situation from turning violent. Poppy, how is Miss Zabini holding up?"

The often imposing Infirmary Matron snorted angrily, conjuring a stretcher for her newest patient. "For the most part, she's simply exhausted. I understand little as to how the energies of the Founders work, but she should be up and about within the day or so. The magic seems to replenish itself over time, so I doubt there will be any permanent effects. Now if only I could keep Mister Potter and his associates out of my care! It's fast becoming a pattern with him."

"Be still, Poppy," the elderly sage chided her. "If you could bring Miss Zabini under your care for the length of her recuperation, I would greatly appreciate it. As for you, Miss Chang, Harry has already informed me of the night's events, so there is no need to keep you up further. Rest, and you may more thoroughly brief me in the morning. Avalon, if you would like to share your thoughts with me now, I will be in my study. Good-night."

Bowing to the Headmaster's wisdom, Cho watched as the teachers made their way out of the North Tower, levitating Blaise between them. Avalon paused to thank the two Champions for their efforts and return Cho's wand before shooing them out of her chamber, the Spirit Walker's sleeping quarters a mess thanks to the night's activities. Harry and Cho decided to take their leave, escaping the discord that permeated the Tower for some solace in the quiet halls. For a time, neither spoke, each too tense and disappointed, both with themselves and with their efforts to awaken the magic within Blaise. _Certainly not our finest evening_, Cho thought to herself, glancing shyly over at Harry. It hurt her to speak to him like she did in the Tower, but it was entirely necessary during those circumstances.

Harry spoke first, lowering his gaze deferentially, as if he was ashamed to look upon her. "I screwed up tonight, Cho. You were absolutely right back there; I had no business confronting Blaise the way I did. Your instincts were better than mine, I guess." He looked Cho in the eye and his voice grew thick with regret. "I almost killed a friend tonight, even when the threat of Salazar had passed. How can I look at Blaise again, knowing that I nearly murdered her out of my own fear and prejudice?"

Any anger she held in her heart began to evaporate, and Cho moved to soothe her lover's misgivings. "You made a mistake, Harry, but not an irreconcilable one. Remember that, at the end of the day when all has come and gone, we are still here and still healthy. The energies of Slytherin have sparked, and while tonight's adventure was something of a disaster, she'll be able to control it more effectively now. No one was hurt or killed, and while I thought your course of action tonight was foolish and stupid, I can respect your efforts to protect me. If anything, it was your lack of trust that upset me."

"I'm sorry, Cho. I know you're a strong woman, capable of defending yourself; I simply let my own fears get away with me. Ever since I arrived at King's Cross for the first time, I've heard all these horror stories about Slytherin, how he was one of the greatest Dark wizards of all time and how every single member of his House turned out rotten. When I saw Blaise out of control like that, all the children's tales and gossip swelled to mind and I could only react. If I've offended you tonight, I'm sorry. I'm quite upset with myself right now, following partisan smears over your dependable insights. If I've shamed you, then I will accept whatever punishment you desire, but I will trust you from now on. You have my word, but if that means little to you after tonight, I understand."

Rather struck by the sincerity of his words, Cho gently squeezed Harry's shoulders to reassure him. "I accept your apology, my love, and your word means the world to me. Just, from now on, think before you act. I don't always need a man to come to my rescue, as grim as a situation might seem on the surface."

"Point taken," Harry said, the vapour of a smile coming to him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Cho replied, kissing him softly, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as the contact ended. "After all our time spent together, I know that the desire to improve yourself is strong within you. I have faith."

"Thanks," the Champion of Gryffindor stated, drawing her into a more passionate, forceful kiss, moaning lightly into her mouth. "I'll visit Blaise later in the Hospital Wing as well, for she deserves an apology too."

Cho gave a joyous laugh, throwing her arms around Harry's neck. "Always the thoughtful one, my love. That being said, Pomfrey's probably only just got her into bed by this juncture, and she honestly does deserve an uninterrupted night's sleep. When she's rested and fully recovered, then it would be best to see her."

"In the meantime…" Harry whispered coyly, filling her ear with his warm breath.

Cho chuckled softly. "I guess I can't just stay mad at you, can I?"

This declaration caused Harry to stop and address Cho with far less levity, the creases of his brow furrowing with loving concern. "Cho, listen, I didn't say those things earlier simply to get into your knickers. I honestly meant what I was speaking, and if you're not up to it tonight, I'll respect your wishes."

"Harry, I know you were being truthful and speaking with integrity. _That's_ why I'm willing to spend the night with you," Cho elaborated, tracing Harry's jawline with a gentle touch. "Couples fight sometimes, it's perfectly natural. I hold it as a source of pride that we're able to communicate and compromise with each other to nip these problems in the bud before they fester. Regardless, we've had a long night, and since I don't have any class in the morning, we can take some time off to…enjoy ourselves." Taking his hand in her own, Cho led her lover into Ravenclaw Tower, allowing herself, for one small moment, to feel carefree and human again.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry left the sensual comforts of Ravenclaw Tower shrouded under the arcane weave of the Invisibility Cloak, carrying with him the sensation of Cho's warm, responsive flesh and the memory of her luxurious bed. Ravenclaw Tower had become something of a second home to the young Gryffindor over the past few weeks, for he had found a great deal of solace and kindness within the spindly edifice. When not making love to Cho, Harry often glanced through the impressive collection of literary and academic texts that dominated the huge Common Room, or discussed Quidditch, politics and school life with his Ravenclaw peers. Yet, it was Harry's desire to make amends to Blaise that led him to abandon the warmth of Cho's bed and walk through the halls of Hogwarts at five in the morning. His behaviour towards the willowy Slytherin had been entirely unacceptable, and he had promised to apologize for it. Besides, when she awoke, Blaise would undoubtedly want a friendly face nearby as consolation after her terrifying experience.

And so it was that Harry set out towards the Hospital Wing with a heavy heart and some magical camouflage, not before stroking Cho's naked back and informing her of his intentions. Ravenclaw Tower and the Hospital Wing were nearly adjacent to one another, so the walk went swiftly. He received no trouble whatsoever from the sleeping portraits, and both Filch and Snape appeared to be sulking through different haunts, leaving him unhindered. Shivering under the Cloak, Harry cursed himself for not bringing a sweater. The night had taken on a vicious, numbing chill that seeped through the castle walls, and Harry was still dressed in the casual jeans and polo shirt he had worn through the evening, certainly nothing winter-worthy. Resolving to grin and bear it, Harry walked stealthly into the Hospital Wing, expecting to see Blaise suffering from Madam Pomfrey's ministrations.

Much to his panic, the Hospital Wing was empty, with no Blaise to be found. One of the beds appeared to have been used, with the sheets flung in disarray and the pillows scattered. Had one of Malfoy's supporters abducted her? It seemed unlikely, given that her latent powers had sparked, but Harry could not shake the thought regardless. It was almost immediately that Harry realized what was happening, and moved to intercept. Quickening his pace to the extent that it woke up every portrait he passed, Harry rushed down to the Slytherin dormitories, taking the steps from the Entrance Hall three at a time. The entrance to the dorms was unsealed, product of a laughing Slytherin seventh-year staggering back towards his domain with a girl on his arm. For the flash of an instant, Harry wondered of the consequences that would occur if Snape found him sneaking through the dungeons of his House, but he shoved aside such thoughts quickly. Blaise was a friend and a fellow Champion, and he wouldn't abandon her simply because that greasy bat might discover him. He was no frightened child to be scared off by the unpleasant Potions Master, and Snape would find that at his cost if he tried to stall the Champion's path.

Folding the Invisibility Cloak more tightly around him, Harry stepped towards the section of the Slytherin dormitories reserved for the girls, his heart pounding in his chest. Each dormitory was labelled with the appropriate year, simplify the Gryffindor's search immeasurably. Licking his dry lips, Harry stepped forward, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing the doorknob, and a tremor of surprise ran over him. He had assumed that the girl's dormitories in Slytherin House would be charmed to prevent the entrance of boys, as per the other Houses. The absence of such countermeasures led him to assume that either such spells were not universally present, or that Slytherin House held women in lower regard than he considered. _How typical of them_, Harry sneered inwardly. Blaise was right about the House, for it was in desperate need of reform, if this was any indication. Mentally prepared, Harry turned the knob and silently entered.

In the centre of the now-vacant room, Blaise Zabini, still haggard and worn from the night's events, was preparing herself for flight, using her wand to pack a large leather trunk with blinding speed. The dormitory itself was a tattered warzone, beds ripped to shreds and furniture hacked into kindling, doubtless by the 1796 Pattern heavy cavalry sword hung at her side. Throwing a green winter coat over her shoulders, Blaise levitated the trunk and set it following after her, only to be halted by the presence of Harry. "It's a bit late to be going for a stroll, Blaise," Harry said, shucking off the Invisibility Cloak and facing her with melancholy. "Blaise, I'm sorry for the things I said tonight, but you don't need to leave the school like this, especially not based on my mistakes."

"And since when did everything become about you, Potter?" Blaise lashed out, her beautiful face flushing with rage and shame, the words spilling out faster than she could make them stop. "Get out of here, Potter, and go back to your little Ravenclaw squeeze-toy. I'm sick of your Merlin-damned petty Gryffindor moralism, and I won't stand it any longer. Now get the hell out of my way; your presence here is offensive to the extreme."

"So that's your plan, Blaise, to run away?" Harry queried, seeing her body tense up and shake in response. "There's no need to all for this. You don't need to flee from your problems. We can help you, and we _do_ want to help you. You're not responsible for what happened in the North Tower tonight, no one believes otherwise, and I'm sorry if I made you think that."

Blaise gave a harsh, sarcastic laugh. "Do you honestly believe that?" she snapped, tears coming to her deep blue eyes. "I almost killed you tonight, Harry, almost murdered you and Cho and set the castle ablaze. I knew _exactly_ what I was doing, when I was doing it, but didn't care in the slightest. How you even look at me after what I did? How can any of you?"

"I nearly made the same error too, so I'm in no position to be angry at you," Harry replied. "Cho has forgiven you, and this evening only showed me how much her judgement is better than mine. Things happened that were beyond your control, and we deserve as much blame as you for letting the experiment get out of hand." Gently taking hold of her wrist, Harry conjured a handkerchief for the blue-eyed spy, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. "Please don't cry, Blaise, you were stronger than you give yourself credit for. The worst part's over now."

The Champion of Slytherin gave a defeated sigh, setting her trunk down before taking a seat herself. "I can't do this anymore, Harry. Not the fighting or the killing or the magic or the secrets or the lies or the fear. I quit. You and Cho can go save the world as much as you please, but I'm done."

Attempting futilely to stifle her tears, Blaise continued on, heedless of Harry's comforting arms. "No matter what happens, Voldemort will have won. Even if we beat him and scatter his bones to the wind, we'll still be corrupted by our actions. I'm sixteen, Harry, and I already have more than enough blood on my hands, and there are times in which I enjoy the fighting and yearn for more of it." Her voice cracked and she began to break down again. "And then there are the energies of Slytherin. When they sparked tonight, Harry, I was so consumed by the magic that I could not breathe! I couldn't get enough of that power, no matter how many people might have been hurt in the process." The beautiful Slytherin wept with shame before turning to face Harry. "I just don't think I'm cut out for this kind of stuff!"

Harry made certain to keep his voice level and appeasing as he replied, "We all feel that way sometimes, Blaise. You're absolutely right; this war is a terrible, vile thing and never a day goes by when I don't wish it was over. You deserve better than to experience such times and be forced to live your life in fear. That being said, there are a lot of people who depend upon us, Blaise, both inside and outside of Hogwarts, and the only way the fighting is ever going to stop is if we finish it. It's a horrid solution, but I certainly can't think of a better one."

Blaise turned bitter at Harry's words. "You mean those mindless sheep who joyfully sold you up the river last year? Those arrogant, complacent fools would don't give a damn about anything beyond their own comfort? Let the bastards rot, Harry, I'm not going to kill people just so some craven who calls himself a wizard can read his post in peace." Her voice fell despondently. "I'm just so exhausted now, Harry; of keeping my cover within Slytherin House, of always looking over my shoulder, of Weasley's hatred and distrust, of the stupid guys that hang around and make comments about my legs. Sometimes I dream that Malfoy's back to finish what he started and I can't fend him off, or it's you dying at the hands of Voldemort. And then the magic speaks to me and offers me a way out, a chance to be free without the burden of responsibility, without the restraints of conscience, and it's comforting in its own twisted way. I'm simply too weak to control the magic like you and Cho can."

"That's not true," Harry retorted empathically. "You're probably the strongest girl I know, Blaise; your determination and cunning aren't an act but qualities that you strongly possess. The energies of the Founders can be frightening, but I promise you that you'll be able to get a better handle on them from now on. It's good that you're looking at the magic seriously, but don't fall victim to doubt either."

"Is this the part where you ask me to keep a stiff upper lip and buck up for the cause?"

Harry sighed. "It's the part where I tell you that we could use your aid. You're your own person, Blaise, I can't make this decision for you. If you are utterly convinced that you can't stand another moment spent in Hogwarts, then I'll be the first to help you move your things. If you decide to hang up the Adder's Bite for good, I'll accept it and give you my blessing. If you chose to retire and watch the rest of the war from the sidelines, I'll understand your desire to do so. Merlin's beard, do you think I haven't considered taking Cho and fleeing the country before? Now, with that said, I can honestly tell you that we need your help to finish this. Voldemort is not going to stop until he either wins or dies, and all our strength is demanded so that our children can live free of this fear. I'm not asking you to fight for the Ministry or even the Wizarding World, just fight for the better days to come. I'm begging you, Blaise, please don't leave us. We are so much less without you."

"What about the Weasels?"

"Ron and Ginny will come around to you," Harry answered, ignoring her pejorative. "They reacted in a similar manner when Cho and I got back together, but they've accepted us. They'll do the same for you, I swear it."

Blaise looked at Harry with wide eyes, letting her head rest in the crook of his shoulder, gently brushing the knuckles of his left hand. Harry felt his ardour grow in such close proximity to the willowy Slytherin, and only began to notice then how truly lovely she was. "Remind me why you're doing this again," Blaise asked as her breathing returned to a healthy tempo. "You've sneaked through the halls in the dead of night and broken into the Slytherin dungeons despite the risk to your academic career, and you've probably vacated Cho's dormitory in the bargain. And for what? A worn-down, two-faced Slytherin bitch?"

"Don't you ever say that!" Harry snapped firmly, receiving a confused look from Blaise in return. "You're not a two-faced Slytherin bitch, you're a human being and a decent, independent one to boot. I consider you to be a friend, as much as Hermione, Ron, Neville or Luna, and if they faced this situation, I would assist them as I have assisted you. You're an amazing young woman, Blaise. Never forget that."

For the first time in a long time, Blaise Zabini was completely stunned and left speechless by Harry's words, which struck her with all the force of a Killing Curse. Part of the reason for her continued survival in Slytherin House was her skill at wordplay, enabling her to deflect suspicion and encourage others to reveal their secrets. But here, such skills failed in the face of Harry's overwhelming kindness and integrity. A warm, glowing blush suffused her cheeks, making her appear all the more attractive. "Again, I understand what Cho and the Weaslette see in you, Harry Potter. That is perhaps the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"It's the truth, Blaise. You don't win any medals for telling the truth."

"Perhaps," Blaise said, stroking the stubble of Harry's jawline with two fingers, forcing his head into position so their eyes met. "Of course, a small token of my regard is in order…"

Harry gasped in surprise as Blaise drew him into a tender kiss, the sensation of her firm and generous lips against his inducing a pleasurable moan from the Champion of Gryffindor. The girl tasted of cream and the barest flavour of mint, and Harry found himself enjoying it far more than he should have, burning in shame. The kiss ended and the Champion of Slytherin beamed at the object of her affections. "A kiss of gratitude, dear Harry, but…but nothing more. I know you love Cho, and regardless of my…feelings for you, my desires, I respect you and Cho too much to impede on what you've created between yourselves. Sometimes, you know, you have to give up the ones you love in order for them to be truly happy." At this declaration, tears began to emerge in her deep blue eyes, but the girl cuffed them away sternly. "I can't make any guarantees, Harry, but I will consider what you have said. Besides, it's far too early to be heading into Hogsmeade now. You should get some rest; you look like you need it."

_Blaise loves me?_ Harry gaped at the thought, still shocked by her earlier display of affection. For his part, he found the willowy Slytherin to be quite attractive, both physically and in terms of her fiery temperament, but he loved Cho too much to consider betraying her in such a fashion. The passionate emotional bonds he shared with the beautiful Ravenclaw were absent with Blaise, and Harry was not a man to discard a woman on some selfish whim. He felt loved and happy with Cho, but could not consent to a relationship with Blaise and expect the same feelings to emerge. Remembering how he had felt the pangs of unrequited love for a time, he felt a harsh surge of pity for the girl. As much as he loved Cho to the ends of his existence, a sour pit formed in his stomach despite it. "Blaise, I honestly don't know what to say, other than I simply can't leave Cho for you, no matter how you feel about me."

"Say you'll go back to Cho and enjoy the rest of the day," came her response. "What the two of you have is special, and while I find myself caring for you, certainly Cho's concern for you surpasses mine. As for my feelings…It's the truth, Harry. You don't win any medals for telling the truth. You deserved to know regardless." She gave Harry an annoyed look, fragments of the old Blaise coming to the fore once again. "Trust me, I'll be alright, you certainly saw to that."

"As you wish," Harry said, bowing before his companion, somewhat placated by her calm, accepting attitude. He'd inform Cho immediately upon his return, she deserved that much, and if she was upset with him, then he'd accept the consequences. "Good night, Blaise."

"Good night, Harry," the willowy Slytherin answered, hearing the door close behind Harry's passage. Flopping herself down on her bed, Blaise savoured the contented moment before drifting off to sleep.

_Next Chapter: The Army of the Marauders takes to the field, Minister Bones pays a visit, and Voldemort gets one step closer to his ultimate victory_


	26. The March of the Marauders

_A/N: Thanks to Will and Trayus for betaing this update and helping me with the rest of the story. As always, much appreciated. Some of the spells used here were developed in Trayus' own stories, so thanks again for letting me play around with them._

**Chapter 26: The March of the Marauders**

It was Valentine's Day by the time of Brotherhood of Merlin was ready to begin its campaign against the centaur of the Forbidden Forest. For the past month, partisan resistance directed at the new Minister of Magic had fermented and consolidated amongst many Hogwarts students, though a considerable minority in terms of numbers and influence. Most of Howarts, and concurrently most of Wizarding Britain, approved of their new Minister and felt much safer with her effective leadership, the dark shadow of fear starting to lift from the hearts of the population. Yet there were still some who took umbrage with Bones and her actions; the wizarding elites who felt their livelhoods and privileges threatened, Voldemort supporters who understood the danger Bones posed to their cause, as well as the apathetic and conservative who opposed any change. The _Daily Prophet_ had helped to fuel these fears, but the position of trust it once held was no more. Amelia Bones was a strong woman, and strength is always valued in a time of war, often to incredible extremes. For all but a few, the election of Bones to the office of Minister was welcome news after years of incompetence, corruption and general mismanagement.

Yet those few still had voices, some even had power, and their efforts were turned to opposing this new order. Fudge's trial on corruption charges had turned into a political circus as the former Minister lambasted his accusers and labelled them as treasonous. The elites, jealous of Bones' popularity and ever-mindful of their own declining power, attempted to stir up unrest by frightening the public with horror stories of what Bones would do given half the chance, from abolishing private property to making demi-humans full citizens under the law to selling out the Aurors during battle. The fact that Bones was somewhat sympathetic to the non-human species that lived under Ministry authority didn't help matters. From pureblood supremacists to wizarding racists, the new Minister faced her fair share of threats, not the least of which were the Death Eaters themselves.

A recent addition to the ranks of the Minister's foes was none other than Adrian Pucey, Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch Team and former member of the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad. Becoming one of the Sons of Enigma upon his return to Hogwarts for his seventh year, Pucey had become disenchanted with Malfoy's pathetic attempts at sabotage and intimidation, his overweening pride and his brittle, childish ego. As far as he could tell, most of the pureblood community, the so-called "true wizards," were quite the same; either a pack of spineless, decadent fools who ran away screaming at the first hex, or a gang of bloodthirsty fascists without reason or cunning. When Malfoy and his closest goons openly defected to the Death Eaters, Pucey remained behind to pick up the pieces and establish his own power base. He was through being the Dark Lord's busboy, and with that craven little weasel Malfoy gone, he had a golden opportunity to seize control of everything the ferret had built before abandoning without a moment's notice.

While Pucey's faith in Voldemort's ideals had waned considerably, his long-standing belief in the supremacy of wizards over all magical creatures was as formidable as ever. In Pucey's mind, Dumbledore was a complete fool for ever permitting creatures like Firenze and Hagrid to teach at the school, allowing genuine wizards, _human beings_, to be instructed by a bunch of sub-human monsters. Human wizards had long since established their dominion over lower forms of magical life, and Pucey liked it that way. He saw no reason in warring against other wizards all the while consorting with such creatures, it made no sense for Voldemort to be defeated if the future beckoned only servitude under those beasts and their human collaborators. Beyond that, Adrian Pucey was simply a man capable of exploiting opportunities. Malfoy's defection had left a void that needed to be filled and he was able to do that.

And so the Brotherhood of Merlin was established, a force of those students annoyed and chafing at the new government, often jealous or hostile towards Potter and his Army of the Marauders and desiring greater influence and authority within the school populace. The Slytherins formed the bulk of the group, of course, the aimless and slavish masses simply accepting Pucey's leadership without much fuss. Fighting Muggleborns and fighting centaur was simply a distinction they were either too incapable or uneducated to make, and the process of shifting targets went off without a hitch. The Sons of Enigma also contributed, although their numbers were significantly reduced since the Christmas break. Only half of the Sons now stood present in Hogwarts, with Malfoy and his closest goons having fled to the Dark Lord's arms, and many of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that participated now deserting and abandoning the cause. Michael Corner was certainly the most powerful of the non-Slytherin Sons to resign, throwing himself at his schoolwork and leaving his past mistakes in the dirt behind him. Pucey frowned to consider the traitorous Ravenclaw. Grindelwald be praised, at least he didn't spill any of the group's secrets, his own misdeeds made sure he'd keep his mouth shut for fear of compromising himself. Still, despite these losses, the remaining Sons formed the basis of the Brotherhood, being far more ruthless and experienced fighters than their counterparts. Finally, a small smattering of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and a handful of Gryffindors had joined the new group, most out of some foolish idea that they were doing the right thing in opposing Bones and Potter. All told, the Brotherhood of Merlin possessed a full hundred members, though only a small proportion of those were sixth-year or above. Security and secrecy were as tight as they could possibly manage, a hastily-planned training regimen had been applied, and the Brotherhood was well motivated to undertake the formulated campaign.

The plan conceived by Pucey was relatively simple, yet theoretically effective. Rather than throwing themselves against their rivals within Hogwarts or against the Army of the Marauders, the Brotherhood of Merlin would focus their efforts fighting the centaur and other local inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest. Without the aid of magic, the beasts would fall quickly to the wandlore of the Brotherhood, provoking reprisals against Hogwarts and neighbouring Hogsmeade. Faced by the threat of the enraging centaur, Dumbledore would be forced to come down hard upon them or risk his own resignation for endangering the lives of students, in both instances denying the coalition of Light powers to another ally. Any attempt by the Ministry to liberalize human-magical creature relations would reach a standstill, the supremacy of the wizard preserved, all without firing off a single curse at another wizard. Pucey felt supremely pleased with himself as he mentally reviewed the scheme, his chest swelling in pride. _And tonight, all the plotting and planning shall finally bear fruit, as the enemy resistance is swept away._

Ignoring the dilapidated conditions surrounding him, Pucey strode across the rotten and broken planks of the Shrieking Shack, listening to the Brotherhood assemble outside. Word to rally at the Shack had been distributed only three days earlier, enough time to ensure they would be prepared, but not so much time as to encourage a leak. The various Brotherhood members had filtered out of the castle in twos and threes so as not to arouse suspicion, taking the less-traveled routes through the greenhouse complex and the grounds before making their way across the frozen hills. Several of them had complained about using the Shrieking Shack as a point of arrival, fearing the legendary spirits that supposedly lingered within the rundown hut. Yet Pucey was not a man to be frightened of ghosts, no matter what tales surrounded them, and reiterated his orders, even threatening to hex his underlings if they did not obey. The building was to be used as a command centre and a place where they might organize themselves, not as a barracks or hostel. He fully intended to be away from the place as soon as possible once the job was done. At the hollow window frames, sentries kept an eye out over the snow as his more senior underlings cursed and bullied the Brotherhood into shape. Moving over to greet his second-in-command, fellow Slytherin Cecil Warrington, Pucey asked, "How's the prisoner doing? I was hoping to beat a few answers out of him before you head out tonight."

Warrington shrugged, as if the issue was none of his concern. "Last time I checked, it's still down there, still secured. Don't worry about an escape; we've had guys watching it non-stop for the past week now. I think we've finally managed to break its spirit, so be my guest. I'll be waiting outside when you're done."

"Alright then," Pucey said. "Get the Brotherhood ready to move. I want the Sons to mingle in with the weaker members, put some spine into the bastards. Myself and Daphne will stay here along with ten members, just in case you guys should screw up. By the way, _don't_. We have a real opportunity here. We prove ourselves tonight, Fudge's friends in high places might be willing to cut us in for something bigger, understand?"

Pucey's fellow Chaser burned red at his belligerent tone, but refused to be baited. "Relax, man. We've got a hundred wizards and witches here tonight, while the centaur just have bows. We'll get this thing done, no sweat," he answered calmly, making for the door. "I'll give the order."

Leaving Warrington to finish his work, Pucey ventured into the cellar of the Shack, cautiously treading on the steep, rickety steps, receiving nods from the two guards watching over the prisoner. "Hello, animal. Enjoying yourself?"

The young centaur slapped the floor with its hooves in frustration, kicking up dust as it tried to escape. A tiny stall had been constructed to contain the prisoner, while magical chains restrained its arms and rear legs to ensure that escape was impossible. Seven days earlier, the elite forces of the Brotherhood, primarily the former Sons of Enigma, had raided the outlying groves of the Forbidden Forest, seizing a hunting centaur and bringing him back to the Shack for interrogation. Their abduction had been so quick and so bloodless that the centaur had little time to react, and it had served to boost the morale of the Brotherhood. After all, if this first strike had gone so easily, then the actual attack would be a piece of cake! Wouldn't it? As it was, the prisoner had revealed little information regarding his people's movements or their defences, but the sheer propaganda value of parading the creature around had not gone unnoticed. With this victory, the Brotherhood stood confident in their chances of ultimate success, always an excellent frame of mind to go into battle. "You should know that I have no plans on showing mercy for your people, beast, so don't bother asking. The Forbidden Forest belongs to the race of Man; you're simply squatting on the land. Have you anything left to say before I expunge your kind from the Forest?"

Laughing uproariously, the centaur faced his enemy with clever, hostile eyes. "Very well then, human! Enter the Forest girded for war under the red light of Mars. You'll not find us such easy prey! Bane will muster the warherd and scour your ruffians from the face of the earth. Both our bows and the stars above have ordained it!"

Pucey snorted at the creature's rambling mysticism. The centaur were always like this, babbling on about the position of the stars or the alignment of the heavens or some such nonsense. Feeling smug in his presumed superiority, the Slytherin chortled, pointing a mocking finger at the creature. "I look forward to it. Your arrogant kind has stood in the way of wizarding-kind for too long, taunting us with claims of land rights and ancestral territories. You will learn to respect us, or I shall _break you!_" he screamed, swiftly losing his composure. "When have your people ever deigned to pull yourselves from up off of the earth and construct a civilization? You are barbarians; without laws, without order, without structure and guidance. A race of half-breeds rummaging in the dirt and mumbling voodoo prayers, nothing to be remembered, nothing to be glorified. Now then, if you tell me where the main centaur encampment is, I'll make this much easier for you."

"Never!" the centaur barked back, folding his arms over his chest. "We are the children of Sagittarius, blessed by the moon and stars. We will never fall prey to the likes of you, and I shall never betray my people!"

The bolt of the Stunning Curse struck the centaur hard in the ribs, causing him to collapse with a groan. Pucey smirked as his prisoner fell, and took a cruel, juvenile pleasure in kicking and stomping him as he lay prone on the cellar floor. "Beast," he muttered darkly, making his way back up onto the main floor, taking the time to seize a Brotherhood guard by the collar. "You make sure it doesn't try anything, understand? That being said, keep it alive for the moment, we might be able to use it as a hostage later." _If things go sour_, he thought to himself, but quickly shoved the thought aside. There would be no defeat for the Brotherhood tonight. There _had_ to be no defeat for the Brotherhood tonight, for this was Pucey's final option, his final avenue to power and glory.

"Plotting again, dear Adrian?" came the lovely, feminine voice, inciting a thrill of pleasure up Pucey's spine. Of all the members of the Brotherhood, the owner of that voice was the only one who could truly command him, the only one who could dissuade him from a course of action or suggest a possible alternative. Dressed in the red robes of the Brotherhood, Daphne Greengrass approached her leader with an amused, impish smile on her cherry-red lips. "I would have thought that the Brotherhood's strategy for this evening would have been finalized by this juncture."

"Just giving us another avenue, Daphne," Pucey replied with genuine friendliness. Since the Brotherhood was established from the ashes of Malfoy's old forces, Daphne had been a constant and welcome presence at his side, helping to organize the group's logistics and communication between its members, as well as providing a source of invaluable council. She was the one who suggested that an attack against the centaur would be more effective and successful than acting against the Army of the Marauders or the Hogwarts student body, and proposed using the Shrieking Shack as a rally point for the attack. Pucey found good advice in her suggestions, and could listen to her without fear of being overthrown or supplanted. While born of a minor pureblood family, her blood credentials were impeccable, and she held herself with strength and dignity, proud of her cultural heritage and her magical abilities. She was also quite pretty, always a bonus in the Slytherin's mind; her short-cropped, spiky dark-red hair and fragile cheekbones giving her an unconventional, angular beauty that Pucey found quite attractive. "Is the Brotherhood finally ready?"

"Yeah, they're assembled outside," Daphne updated him. "The pathfinder team has reported back; the trail we've pounded out is in good shape, and they report no resistance or traps leading up to the Forest edge. I think we're ready for this thing."

Pucey nodded, feeling his heart become blithe in his chest, confident and optimistic. No barriers remained between him and his victory, and his imagination drifted to visions of triumph. He would return to the Slytherin dormitories a hero, winning the respect of his peers, the patronage of Fudge's elite supporters, and the attention of the House's girls. With the prestige gained from this victory, he would have the resources and influence needed to raise an _army_ of Slytherins and finish off Potter once and for all. The teachers would rule the classrooms but he would rule Hogwarts, even long after he left. It was an intoxicating sensation and he revelled in it. "Excellent!" he shouted uproariously, drawing a concerned glance from Daphne. "Tell Warrington to move out, I want a dozen centaur hides for my dormitory before the sun rises. I shall stay here to coordinate our activities, and I'd like for you to be at my side."

Daphne's lovely face grew hard and cold in response, and she turned away from the Brotherhood leader, poison entering her words. "So this is how I am to serve the Brotherhood? As a trophy of battle, a pet to keep safe from danger? I joined the group because I wanted to serve my people and preserve our civilization, not so I could be admired from afar. How dare you deny me this chance at glory?"

"You will serve me well here, Daphne, I have need of your organizational skills to coordinate our attack," Pucey explained with a hint of malice. "And remember that you serve the Brotherhood and thus you serve me, so do as you're told. Battle is no place for women. You're a smart girl; you should have realized that by now."

"How could I forget?" Daphne replied, turning her head away as Pucey came up behind her, placing his hands at her shoulders. "Pucey…"

"I'm sorry, Daphne," Pucey said, turning her to face him. "But I feel responsible for you. You have done a great deal to aid the Brotherhood, and without your leadership and guidance, this endeavour would have fallen apart by now. But your skills to not extend into combat, and the centaur are a fierce opponent. Perhaps such lesser, barbarian races would expose their women to that kind of danger, but I would hope that we purebloods are far more civilized than that. Besides…" His voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "If the battle should go poorly, I'll need to make sure that the best of the Brotherhood make it through unscathed. I would not have you face imprisonment at the hands of Bones' Ministry. You will have glory enough when we succeed, don't worry about that."

"Perhaps…" Daphne conceded the point. "In that case, I'll do a final check of the defences; make sure everything is in place. It'll give me something to do, at least."

The leader of the Brotherhood laughed. "As always, your devotion inspires me! Return once you are finished, and tell the guards to join the others outside for a moment," he said, dismissing the girl, watching her dancer's frame move beneath the folds of her robes. Perhaps after he had finished grinding the centaur beneath his boots, he'd conquer Daphne and enjoy the comforts of power with her. She was certainly a pleasant distraction, and having power was pointless if you had no one to show it off to. Through his remaining underlings and supporters, the imprisoned Cornelius Fudge had promised Pucey great things if he would complete this task, including a place of privilege once the ousted former Minister took control once again. _But now, to meet my loyal followers_, he reminded himself, making his way one of the Shack's large bedroom windows, looking over the full hundred Brotherhood members who paraded in review, even the sentries watching over the Shack part of the performance. "My brothers!" he declared in a loud voice, puffing out his chest and adopting a suitably impressive booming tone. "My brothers, the Wizarding World faces a great crisis today. The halls of power reek with subversion and betrayal as Minister Bones betrays every value our great country stands for. Simpletons and fools like Potter and Dumbledore consort with werewolves, pagans, and other lesser creatures. Today, however, we take a stand against such mindless change. Today, we fight for the wizarding race and set right this world. Order will be restored and the grand destiny of wizardingkind fulfilled. Onward to the Forbidden Forest! Destroy all the mongrel centaur you find! To victory!"

Cheers erupted from the Brotherhood, and Pucey allowed himself to relax. _Nothing will stand in my way tonight!_

* * *

Daphne Greengrass finished her examination of the area around the Shrieking Shack, distinctly pleased to note that the attentions of the sentries had been drawn towards Pucey's bombastic speech. The windows and loopholes where the Brotherhood guards had been stationed stood vacant, as per Pucey's orders, giving her ample opportunity to signal the others. The vain fool had demanded that the entire Brotherhood be present for whatever diatribe he had planned, but a quick After-Image Charm, combined with the sheer numbers assembled, made certain she wouldn't be missed. Having bought herself a few precious minutes, Daphne strode silently to the rear windows facing Hogwarts, trying to ignore the racist slander being perpetrated outside. 

The lovely Slytherin girl shuddered as she remembered Pucey's hands on her shoulders. The Brotherhood leader had made his intentions for her quite apparent, and doubtlessly intended on following through once the immediate task had been dealt with. Fortunately, Pucey was smart enough to keep his hands to himself for the moment, the only thing that made this mission the least bit bearable. When her superiors heard of the racist Slytherin's growing attraction to her, they offered to abort the mission out rather than see her get hurt or molested. Daphne had declined, not wanting someone to get hurt due to her personal discomfort. She'd just have to endure it the best she could. For the most part, she was successful in distracting or deflecting Pucey's attentions, but she knew that wouldn't last for long. Fortunately, she had a chance to finish it tonight, to crush the Brotherhood so deep underfoot it would never rise again. Peeking outside the window, Daphne was relieved to see that the north-eastern edge of the Shack was completely deserted, simplifying things considerably. "_Heraut!_" she intoned sharply, watching as the tip of her wand glowed red, flickering in the primitive Muggle pattern known as Morse Code. _Eighty head north. Twenty stay here. The gate is down. Be ready._

From up in one of Hogwart's many towers, a blue light responded: _Understood. The plan goes ahead. Be prepared_Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she was discovered now, the wheels of their plan were already turning and could not be stopped by her capture or death. Settling herself down on a rickety wooden chair, the double agent closed her eyes and waited.

* * *

Cecil Warrington kicked a few Brotherhood members back onto the path, angrily cursing at them for stumbling onto the deep snowbanks that surrounded their trail. A few days earlier, the Brotherhood had carved out the trail from the snow-covered slopes, pounding it beneath their feet and turning it into a suitable roadway for the attack force to travel on. Freed from the labour of trudging through the glacial landscape, the Brotherhood would make much better time travelling to the Forbidden Forest, with more energy and stamina for the attack itself. The path was broad enough that three people might comfortably walk abreast, but there was always the occasional fighter who either stumbled off or was pushed by a rowdy compatriot. "Knock it off, people! You'll have plenty of fun fighting the centaur!"

The perpetrators stoically ignored him. Discipline had long been a problem in the ranks of the Brotherhood. Most of their members had little respect for their leadership, and were only fighting for their own selfish goals or hateful ideologies. In turn, the leaders of the group demanded obedience rather than earning respect, only alienating themselves further from their followers. The more Warrington considered it, the more he felt that the Brotherhood was in shambles, too diffused, too unorganized and too egotistical. Very little training had been undertaken by the group, for Pucey was relying upon the pre-existing duelling skills of the Brotherhood and the superiority of wandlore to triumph over the centaur. It was overconfidence, plain and simple, but Pucey wouldn't hear of it, and that silly tart Greengrass wouldn't convince him otherwise. Not for the first time, Warrington considered what he was doing there, working alongside such fools. He considered himself a loyal, valuable pureblood, an enemy of blood-traitors like Potter and Dumbledore, potentially even a true servant of Voldemort. And Pucey's bold plan would pay off if successful, the centaur reprisals forcing Dumbledore to resign and the Ministry to crack down, which would only help their cause. It was not the plan that worried the Slytherin Chaser, but the prospects for pulling it off, and given that their bold leader had decided to sit this one out to be in Daphne Greengrass' charming company, it only fuelled his worries. Still, with eighty wizards of varying years accompanying him, he doubted this attack could go south. They had strength of numbers and the element of surprise, and his craven heart hoped that would be enough.

Scotland in February was a frigid, often brutally cold environment, particularly in an area so distant from Muggle civilization. Hogwarts had seen a series of heavy snowfalls blanket the region over the past few weeks, shrouding it and the nearby woodlands under a firm white blanket, leaving it very difficult to move cross-country. The night itself was cold but dry, the relative darkness doing more to reduce their eyesight with no blowing snow contributing. Warrington took stock of their surroundings, chivvying some of the lazier Brotherhood troopers forward. To the north-east lay Hogwarts itself along with the Greenhouses and the grounds, considered off-limits with regards to this mission, while the Shrieking Shack was but a few minutes south. North lay the western periphery of the Forbidden Forest, where they had captured the centaur hunter, and was likely to be the location of their main encampment. South-west of the Shrieking Shack and blocked off from travel by wooden fencing stood Hogsmeade, still in the process of being rebuilt since the Death Eater attack, along with the train station linking Hogwarts to King's Cross via the Hogwarts Express. The main road running east between Hogsmeade and the castle was guarded by a series of small Auror watchposts, and the Brotherhood had orders not to engage the Aurors whatsoever, both from Pucey and his mysterious backer.

Finally, immediately east of the Brotherhood's march stood a small copse of pines traditionally known amongst the Hogwarts students as the Lonely Wood. Devoid of the more exotic magical fauna that characterized the Forbidden Forest, the Lonely Wood had been declared acceptable for student exploration by Hogwarts for many years now, but few went out of their way to visit the place. After all, where was the excitement or the adventure in visiting a place that the teachers said was acceptable? Beyond that, the terrain was marked with gentle hills and rolling slopes, and while not high enough to make a hiker out of breath traversing them, they could serve to conceal enemy forces if they were well-placed. The Brotherhood pathfinders had reported nothing out of the ordinary, and no force could travel across this terrain swiftly without magical aid. Then why was it that a chill crept up his spine, and his breathing sounded worried and harsh in his ears? Was this the calm before the storm, the brief pause of tranquility, the stillness before the chaos of battle? Was he afraid, nervous, insecure, or was he simply realizing now that the battle was lost before it even began?

Shouts of panic were quickly cut off as the right flank of the Brotherhood began to disintegrate under accurate curses, catching the complacent wizards completely unawares. Confusion boiled through the ranks as friends and comrades fell, and a full six of their number had been cut down by Stunners before Warrington realized what was happening. "Ambush!" he cried, shoving Brotherhood members towards the danger. "Hex back, you idiots! Push them away!" A nearby trooper flew backwards as if jerked by a rope thanks to a Reductor Curse between the shoulder blades. Conjuring a Shield Charm, Warrington hit the snow, barking out to his forces, "Hit them! Hit them!" as the shock rose in his voice.

Focusing his attention on the crumbling right flank, Warrington was shocked to see that the ranks of the foe numbered only a dozen, yet they did tremendous damage compared to their small presence. Wearing pure white robes, cloak and hood, the attackers blended into the snowy terrain excellently, which doubtlessly had helped them to sneak up on the Brotherhood unnoticed. A symbol of some kind was sewn onto the chest of their robes, but Warrington found himself too far away to get a good look at it. The attackers, men and women both, were obviously expert duellists, given the sheer amount of well-aimed curses and hexes they flung out, overwhelming the defences of the Brotherhood. Eventually, the wizard supremacists began to retake the initiative, bringing their greater numbers and wands to bear against the ambushers, peppering the area with jets of red and purple light. One of the attackers fell from a Stunning Curse, his comrades pulling him to safety out of the line of fire. The apparent leader of the group saw this and blew a whistle sharply three times, ordering a retreat. Like smoke, the attackers vanished, slipping away into the Lonely Wood under the cover of Sea-Fog Charms, leaving behind them a dozen unconscious Brotherhood members. "Patrick! Patrick!" Warrington cried out, kicking the troopers back onto their feet. "Do you see them?"

"Not now, but they definitely went into the Lonely Wood!" Patrick Bradley replied, the fifth-year Ravenclaw moving over to his comrade-in-arms. Bradley had been one of the Ravenclaw Sons when Malfoy was running the group, and had accepted Pucey's new order without reservation in the name of blood purity. "Where in Grindelwald's name did they come from?"

"Doesn't matter now! Let's just send them to their graves!" Warrington snarled, shamed and humiliated by the sudden attack, boiling the blood in his veins. Grabbing Bradley's shoulder, he ratted out orders rapidly. "Take a score of the Brotherhood, including five of the Sons, and head into the Lonely Wood. Find those bastards and put an end to them; use whatever means necessary! We'll move on to the Forest and continue the attack. Don't fail!" Pushing Bradley aside, Warrington motioned to another Brotherhood member, this time a fourth-year Slytherin looking distinctly terrified and uncertain. "You! Run back to the Shrieking Shack and tell Pucey what happened here. Tell him to be ready!"

As the Brotherhood scurried into action, Warrington forced his group into a harsh march, hoping to reach the Forbidden Forest unscathed by another strike. Leaving the fallen goons where they lay, the Slytherin furrowed his brows angrily. _When I find whoever did this, they'll find themselves wishing they were the centaur by the time I'm done with the bastards!_

* * *

As the Sea-Fog Charms enveloped the area in clouds of thick mist, Luna Lovegood led the Ghosts towards the Lonely Wood, her steps falling lightly on the packed snow. Her squad of Marauders had planned their route out beforehand, even creating a trail of snowprints to follow, enabling them to reach the relative safety of the copse swiftly and silently. The burden of their stricken fellow did not hinder them either. Luna's squad had trained time and time again for such an eventuality, honing their hit-and-run tactics in mock skirmishes with other squads of the Army of the Marauders. "Once we've hit the treeline, set Justin down and make sure he's alright," she whispered quietly, moving to allow her fighters to reach the safety of the Wood before her. "Hannah, take your section and keep harassing them. Try and see if you can divide their forces, then lure them towards us. We'll be waiting in the middle for them. Good luck!" 

"Some sweet sixteenth, huh Luna?" Hannah Abbott asked jokily, gesturing some of the Ghosts to her. "Just keep careful, I wouldn't want to face Neville if you wind up hurt."

"I can handle Neville, but it's more important that we take out this group before they can link up with the main force again," Luna emphasized, showing off a more cunning, strategic side, her normally whimsical and imaginative thoughts tempered this evening into cold steel. Harry, Cho and Neville were counting on her, and she wanted to prove that their trust in her was warranted. She had been given one of the most dangerous and enticing responsibilities in the world; command over a group of warriors, the lives of over a dozen people resting in her hands. Luna had not sought out this position, but her strong duelling skills and combat experience led Harry to bestow the mantle upon the fifth-year Ravenclaw regardless. _You're simply too good not to be a squad leader, Luna_, he had told her, countering her objections. _It's not a question of politics, and as much as I consider you a friend, even that doesn't enter into this. You're just good, and we need combat-proven witches like you if the Army is going to work._ At first, Luna was doubtful that the squad would even follow her orders, but they had accepted her with few reservations. Luna _was_ experienced, she _was_ fairly powerful, and Harry's seal of approval was enough to convince them. Since the Army of the Marauders had been re-organized into squads, the Ghosts had carved out a niche as a hit-and-run unit, able to hold their own in an engagement but preferring to tease and harry the enemy along.

Motioning the five remaining Marauder volunteers under cover, Luna felt a tremble of anticipation rush up her slender frame, her heart pounding with the tension and adrenaline. She never really considered herself a violent or heroic person, just someone who wanted to do the right thing; whether it was join Dumbledore's Army in their resistance against Umbridge, aid Harry and his friends in the Department of Mysteries, or defend her fellow students from the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. Now, however, excitement welled up at her breast and she found herself wishing that the enemy would come in full force. It would be a chance to test herself, to prove herself, to show that she was so much more than "Loony Lovegood," that she could be just as heroic as Harry or Cho when the need arose. At the faintest edge of her hearing, screams sounded as Hannah and her five Marauders went to work picking away at the Brotherhood reprisal force, splitting their numbers apart and drawing them away from each other. "Wait for my word to start firing, not a moment before," she quietly told her troops, receiving low nods in response. Silence and surprise formed the fulcrum of her plan; if they were lost, the Ghosts would fall. More cries of pain sounded throughout the copse, but the Ravenclaw simply tightened her pure-white cloak about her and settled down to wait.

* * *

The ambush of the Ghosts lit a fire under the Brotherhood, and they stormed towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest with reckless haste, legs pumping, feet crushing down on the packed snow. Rather than risk dividing his forces any further by sending out a vanguard to clear the path ahead, Warrington elected to have the Brotherhood stuck together to concentrate their firepower. It was a fatal error on his part. As it was, he had no idea as to what lay beyond the immediate confines beyond the Shrieking Shack, particularly as he got closer to the Forest itself. The last reconnaissance survey suggested that no resistance existed to confound them, but it was over a half hour old, and the attack by Luna's forces suggested that it was in error. In short, Warrington was quite taken aback when the front ranks of the Brotherhood crossed the threshold of a low hill and began being thrown aside by powerful curses. He had been expecting another incursion before they arrived at the Forbidden Forest, but definitely not one of this severity and strength. "What the hell?" he swore, pushing his way to the front, narrowly missing a speeding Reductor Curse in the process. 

About fifty witches and wizards had positioned themselves in battle formations on a nearby hill overlooking the Brotherhood, firing volleys of well-aimed curses into the mass of teeming wizard supremacists. They wore robes and cloaks of jet black, with varying designs of their shoulder pauldrons to distinguish between different units within the overall formation. Looking over the enemy ranks, Warrington saw Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws fighting together in the same units, using their wands at ranges that most of the Brotherhood would consider impossible. Then there was the emblem sewn into their robes and affixing the standard carried in the middle of the formation, the same symbol he saw in the white-cloaked attackers just minutes earlier. A serpent, raven, lion and badger pursuing on another in an endless circle, within which a great sword and wand sat crossed over into an "x" shape. _The symbol of the Army of the Marauders_, Warrington realized, feeling the blood drain from his face. And standing at the forefront of the enemy army was none other than that Gryffindor bastard Potter, shouting out encouragement to his fellows and aiding in the barrage. Next to him stood a large centaur who coolly watched the progress of the battle. Reaching new heights of frenzy, Warrington raised his wand, dragging some of the more stubborn Brotherhood members forward. "This is it, lads! Wipe the floor with that little pissant! _Charge!_"

* * *

It had not taken long for the Army of the Marauders to establish themselves on the snowy hill, waiting for the enemy scouts to return and report before moving into position, often using brooms to deploy squads quickly. Levitation Charms also helped the Army to traverse the deep snow, and they had assembled quickly to meet the Brotherhood threat. The hill gave them a decent height-advantage over the wizarding supremacists, and the natural terrain offered some cover against enemy curses. "Steady, everyone! Hold your ground!" Harry cried, watching the faces of the Army grimly set. "Give them all you got!" 

A mighty roar of defiance sounded from the Army and their curses flew faster than ever. Next to Harry, the wise centaur Firenze cast an appraising glance over the student militia. "Your warriors are indeed well trained, Harry Potter. Those who would murder my people will not stand for long against you."

"Don't count your eggs before they're in the pudding, Firenze," Harry reminded him, firing off a Stunner and catching a burly Brotherhood member in the gut. "And don't worry about them running, we're ready for that."

"Most humans would not lower themselves to aiding my people," Firenze stated with no small measure of distaste. "Nor would my people desire to be aided by humans. What brought you here to this hill, Harry Potter, to fight for a people that are too proud and haughty to accept the assistance of others? What brought you and your warriors out here to possibly die?"

Harry shook his head, intercepting a Bludgeoning Hex heading for the centaur astrologer with one of his own, the twin spells booming like thunder when they collided. "No one is dying today, Firenze, either us, your people or the members of this Brotherhood. Besides, quite frankly, we can use all of the allies we can get." Letting his wand hand rest at his side momentarily, Harry took the opportunity to examine how each squad was doing, and the progression of the overall battle. Harry regretted that he was often forced to take a hands-off approach when leading the Army of the Marauders, a fact that proved galling. As much as his duelling skills were handy, he needed to make sure the entire group was performing well, and react to changing battlefield circumstances, something he couldn't realistically do in the midst of an adrenaline-fuelled bloodlust. _Cho's good sense must be rubbing off on me_, he considered, a sardonic, trickster smile coming to him. "Natalie, ready the red pennant. They'll break soon, so Ginny's squad will have to keep 'em pinned."

At the centre of the Marauder's formation, Neville's squad, designated the Indefatigable, held firm against the Brotherhood advance. Neville had secured his position well, having his troops dig into the snows to create impromptu foxholes supported by conjured barricades. With these defences established, the Indefatigable were able to avoid the brunt of the Brotherhood's spells, reducing causalities. Harry watched as the once-shy Gryffindor urged his squad on to greater heights of resistance, motivating them forward. While not the strongest offensively of the Marauder squads, the Indefagitable were definitely the toughest defensively. The Brotherhood strike smashed against Neville's squad like waves upon a cliff-face, stopped dead in their tracks. Harry knew his friend would die before surrendering, and that front would not fall while he could still fire a curse.

Next, Susan Bones led her Praetorians at the right flank of the Marauder formation, sending clockwork volleys of curses into the Brotherhood, their position on the hilltop enabling them to do tremendous damage to the flanks of the enemy force and burrow down into the centre. Much like the British redcoat battalions that faced off against the armies of Napoleon two centuries earlier, the Praetorians fought in two ranks, exchanging spell variety for sheer firepower, firing off dozens of accurate curses to overwhelm the enemy. Nothing could stand under such devastating barrages, and the Brotherhood was slowly forced back, foot by foot. It was marvellous in its mechanical perfection, the sheer purity of it. The Praetorians just kept up the pressure, only disrupting the barrages to move a wounded comrade back to the medics or focus on a specific target.

On the left flank stood Hermione's Exemplars, raking the Brotherhood from stem to stern with their powerful spells. Under the erudite Gryffindor's guidance, this squad had cultivated some of the most powerful duellists in the Army, each member of the Exemplars skilled in a variety of eccentric and useful combat spells. "_Adsulto verber hinc inde!_" Hermione cried, weaving her wand in a great arc and sending waves of white luminous energy slamming into the close Brotherhood ranks, rendering four of their number unconscious. A pair of Marauders began transfiguring the enemy into iguanas, while another swiftly dispatched his foes with a Drunkenness Curse, immediately taking them out of the fight. Beside them, partially sheltered by the slope of the hill, stood Ron's squad, the Red Lions. Harry elected to keep them reserve for the moment, unleashing their strength only when the need was dire. Still, Ron's Marauder volunteers did some damage, picking off Brotherhood members who fled the greater formation, as well as contributing to the overall barrage.

The Brotherhood's advance ground to a halt. To walk into the fury of a hurricane would have been a more feasible proposition than advance into that storm of curses. The Brotherhood had been expecting a quick and easy victory against a "savage" people, not a determined assault by a highly trained and organized foe such as this. For the most part, they had practiced duelling on an individual level in close-quarters, with Duelling Club rules, perfect for schoolyard fights but not real war. The Army of the Marauders was hitting targets at up to a hundred yards, far below the range of longbows or Muggle firearms, but certainly reaching the maximum distance of wand-cast curses. Returning spells from the Brotherhood were simply inaccurate or poorly cast, resulting in few hits. Whenever a knot of the group attempted to advance and charge up the hill, the Army of the Marauders focused their attacks on such rushes and cut them to pieces. Quickly, Harry could see the Brotherhood stretched to the breaking point. "Red pennant!" he cried out to Natalie McDonald, the Army's standard bearer. Tapping the banner-pole thrice against the ground caused the standard to morph into a deep shade of red. Natalie waved the standard in three great circles, signalling the next element in Harry's trap.

Had the Brotherhood of Merlin been paying attention to the edge of their pathway, they might have noticed a series of small holes penetrating the crust of the snow, each no larger than a Muggle coin. As it was, the wizarding supremacists were too concerned with other matters to truly pay attention, and it would cost them dearly. In response to the signal from Natalie, the snow burst open beneath the feet of the Brotherhood, inciting terrified screams. Throwing her head back in a howling scream, Ginny Weasley and her Hellions leapt from their camouflaged pits and attacked the Brotherhood from behind, falling upon them like Norse berserkers. They were a fearsome sight, each Hellion wearing professional-carved tengu masks, giving them an altogether demonic appearance. The rear of the Brotherhood attack force simply collapsed under the pressure as Ginny's squad tore into them like wild dogs. "_Have at them!_" Ginny shrieked from behind her pine-wood dragon mask, her auburn eyes revealing exhilaration. Discharging a Stunner into the face of a panicked Brotherhood member, the fiery Gryffindor pressed the attack, Transfiguring an enemy's hand with the Fumbus Curse. "Hound them, hound them, drive them to ground!"

With their retreat cut off and facing fire from both front and behind, whoever was leading the Brotherhood ordered his remaining troops to form an infantry square. Barely thirty by this point, the Brotherhood fired numerous curses against both threats, digging in for their final stand. The Hellions began to take casualties now, three of their number falling before Ginny ordered them to pull back, taking five Brotherhood members out for her troubles. More fell from the rain of spells atop the hill, but Harry was starting to get nervous. "Blue pennant!" he ordered, his face hardening. In a final act of defiance, the Brotherhood could unleash more powerful Dark spells, perhaps even the Unforgivables, whatever their flagging stamina would permit. Harry would not see a single Marauder fall to such wickedness, not when victory was so close. Better to hit the enemy with everything they had rather than see that happen.

At first, the pitch-black sky managed to conceal the movement of Cho's unit, but the rustle of the wind through the straws soon alerted the Brotherhood to the eight figures mounted on brooms, racing towards them like speeding arrows. Wands raised, curses flashed, but too late. The Ravenwing dove at the enemy, Cho leading the formation on her Firebolt, evading the spells of the Brotherhood with languished ease. Black spheres were thrown into the middle of the wizarding supremacists, non-lethal flashbang grenades developed by Blaise, a variant of her fragmentation devices. In the middle of such a packed formation, the effect was nothing short of catastrophic. The infantry square fell, blinded and concussed, losing cohesion and falling apart.

"Now, Ron!" Harry barked. "Drive these buggers off my hill!"

"Red Lions, _advance!_" Ron bellowed in his best drill-sergeant voice, receiving cheers from his squad in reply. "Draw your clubs and _get stuck in!_" With great speed, the Red Lions vaulted over the lip of the hill, drawing solid oak truncheons the size of Beater clubs. The squad could perform quite well with wand-based duelling, but the real strength of Ron's unit lay in the heavy cudgels they held and the strong men and women who wielded them. Bounding down the hill, Ron struck the first foe solidly across the face, chipping teeth in the man's mouth and sending him to the ground. Another Brotherhood member, having only just recovered from the flashbangs, fired off a Reductor Curse, eyes widening in shock when the spell ricocheted off the magically-reinforced shoulder pauldron, the flexible plate absorbing and diverting the blow. Ron responded with a savage blow to the belly, doubling the guilty party over. "_For the Marauders!_" he shouted the battle-cry of the Army, literally leaping into the enemy ranks, bowling two of the enemy over with his charge. Then the rest of the Red Lions were there, swiftly disarming the Brotherhood with club and wand, cracking heads and breaking hands. That tore it for the last few resisters. Strafed from above by the curses of the Ravenwing, pummelled by the weapons of the Red Lions and hexed from a dozen angles, what remained of the Brotherhood turned and fled. They did not ask for surrender or mercy, and received none, cut down and Stunned before they could take a dozen steps. It had taken barely five minutes, but the Brotherhood of Merlin was crushed all the same, while the Army of the Marauders suffered only a dozen injured and unconscious. Pucey's plan had failed.

The Army of the Marauders cheered in their victory, offering high-fives and congratulations all-round. Ron quickly silenced them. "Job ain't done yet!" he reminded them, as he and the other squad leaders gathered around Harry. "Harry! Mind if I take a bunch of the mates and get to the Shack? I don't want Barbie to get there before I do and steal all the thunder."

"We need to finish detaining the Brotherhood members here and securing their wands before we can think of anything else," Hermione interjected. "And there's still Luna's squad to assist. We haven't heard anything from them yet. Do you think she was successful?"

"The enemy's numbers were somewhat smaller than reported, so I'm sure she was," Cho added. "I'll take the Ravenwing and head over to the Lonely Wood; we'll be able to respond much faster than the rest of the Marauders if Luna's in any trouble."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. You should head out quickly though. As much as I trust Luna, I don't want to see her unsupported, especially when the enemy might be desperate enough to kill by this point."

"I'll go with her," Neville suggested, concern for the slender Ravenclaw chiselled into the marble of his face.

"While I can certainly understand your desire, Neville, between Cho and Luna, I consider the situation dealt with already. How about you and Hermione head over to the Shrieking Shack? Blaise should be in position by this point. If she hasn't taken the Shack by this point, then you can help her mop up."

"Remember that the Brotherhood will have probably fortified the Shack from outside assaults, and if they feel like their backs are against the wall, they could kill the hostage," Cho reminded them, inserting her wand back into the spring-loaded wand holster at her right wrist. "Keeping their captured hunter alive is the only thing that will make the centaur trust us. Should he die, nothing we say or do, not even this victory here, will make them change their minds. Once the rest of you have finished up here, you should definitely head over to the Shack, just in case." The beautiful Ravenclaw shook her head, as if disappointed with her own lack of confidence. "I know I might be overreacting, but still…"

Harry gently squeezed her hand in reassurance. "It's a worthwhile warning, to be honest. Alright then, let's get to it. Ron, Ginny, see if you can find the group's leader in all this mess. I want to know who's to blame for this, Firenze too."

"Sure thing, Harry," Ron said, moving to make inquiries. The squad leaders split up, moving to their separate duties. Neville and Hermione took their squads straight for the Shrieking Shack, borrowing a half-dozen additional Marauders to act as scouts, while the Ravenwing flew towards the Lonely Wood at top speed. Other Marauders proceeded to securing the incapacitated Brotherhood members, taking their wands and corralling them into groups. Harry and Firenze strode across the snowy plain as Ron and Susan brought a tall, sandy-haired boy forward, his face covered in pustules and bruises. "Think this might be the one, mate. Several of the Marauders said that this git was leading the charge, ordering the Brotherhood around."

Harry looked at the prisoner in question, his eyes narrowing in recognition. "Warrington, right? You grabbed Ginny by the hair during the Gryffindor/Slytherin match as I seem to recall. Where's Pucey?"

"Slag you!" Warrington shouted, lunging for Harry, only to be stopped by Ron's firm grip. "I ain't telling you nothing! Go ahead and run to Dumbledore, you Gryffindor piece of shit, but I won't say a word."

Warrington's choler was silenced as Firenze angrily approached, the normally serene centaur livid at the human's irrational hatred. "I am outcast, Cecil Warrington of Slytherin House, cast out from the herd, denied the embrace of kinship for my association with humans. I have no more place amongst my people for the sin of working with those not of my kind. Yet, for all their flaws, they are my people and I will not allow them to come to harm. You attempted to intrude upon the Forest under the banner of Mars and destroy our homes, murder our young, scatter the teachings of the moon and stars to the winds. Tell me why I should not hand you over to the justice of the centaur. Tell me why I should heed Harry Potter's advice and send you to the Aurors. Give me a reason."

Harry spoke next. "We know all about Pucey and his plans, about the strength of the Brotherhood, your intentions for the centaur, everything. We also know that Pucey has a backer of some sort that he hasn't fully revealed to you. The Brotherhood is finished, Warrington. If you promise to cooperate, we might go easy on you."

"Perhaps it is time for me to find a new job," the Slytherin smiled coldly, shaking off Ron's grip. "Pucey's in the Shrieking Shack with a dozen more members and the prisoner. He said he didn't want the thing escaping, but the spineless little turd probably just wanted to keep out of harm's way while the rest of us fought. You have a plan for keeping the creature alive?" he asked wickedly, ignoring Firenze's horrified stare.

"Of course," Harry replied. The young Gryffindor was smart enough not to give away vital information to an enemy, but by Merlin Warrington had angered him! Shaking his head at the sheer pointless, racist stupidity of the Brotherhood's entire enterprise, the Champion allowed his composure to crack slightly. "In fact, by now the Shrieking Shack should be ours, and your stupid display finished once and for all. Get him out of here," he ordered in a sharp, unforgiving tone. As Warrington was dragged away, Harry turned his attention in the direction of the Shrieking Shack, uttering a silent prayer for Blaise, hoping that she'd finish her mission without getting hurt in the process. _Cho was right; if Blaise fails, all of this will have been for nothing. Please make it work, Blaise, that's all I can ask._

* * *

Adrian Pucey's mind whirled and he paced anxiously around the main room of the Shrieking Shack, seeing his grand plan crumble into dust before him. How could everything have gone so wrong, so quickly? He had barely settled down to flirt with Daphne on the shredded and moth-eaten mattress when a messenger from the attack group burst in babbling about an ambush next to the Lonely Wood. Details were scant and ill-described, so Pucey sent the boy out again to figure out what was happening. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and no word had been heard from them since, only increasing his anxiety. Setting the guards on full alert, Pucey considered the possible extent of the counterattack. The worst case scenario was that it was a full-blown raid by the Aurors to take out the Brotherhood, a possibility that seemed extremely likely as time passed. The minutes passed like molten lead, and he could do nothing to assuage the fear that gnawed away at him. "Daphne!" he cried anxiously, storming over to one of the sentries. "Where's Daphne?" 

The sentry shook his head, inconsiderate to his questioning, which only aggravated Pucey further. Noting to punish the insolent guard once the night was done, the Slytherin Chaser continued his search for the elusive girl, having apparently vanished into thin air. The Shrieking Shack was a relatively small, confined space, there were certainly few places that she could be. The living room, of course, the tiny attic, the basement…

Pucey stopped in his tracks, the horrifying, revolting truth starting to dawn. Who was it that had full knowledge of the Brotherhood's plans? Who was it that suggested striking the centaur in the first place, bringing them out of the Hogwarts grounds where they might be ambushed and harassed at will? Were her earlier demands to be let out onto the battlefield an act, a charade? Perhaps it was just the tension and nervousness getting to him, but Pucey began rushing towards the basement, calling out to the guards, "Bring Daphne Greengrass to me, immediately! I want a team in the basement ri-".

Earlier, Pucey had stationed guards on the steps leading into the basement, but left none inside the basement itself. At the time, it had seemed like a sensible course of action, the prisoner was confined, unconscious and could not scale the steps regardless, the manpower was needed elsewhere, and there were no other approaches into the basement other than through the steps. Unfortunately for the Brotherhood, however, there _was_ another way into the Shrieking Shack. The Whomping Willow tunnel had lain deserted and unused since the night Sirius Black had escaped from the long arm of the Ministry yet again, the exit shaft undisturbed behind a false floorboard. Now, however, it came ominously to life, spilling forth nine black-cloaked women from the cellar, catching the Brotherhood guards completely by surprise. The same tactic the Death Eaters had used to seize Azkaban was employed here, and this sudden infiltration was met with panic and disarray. Flash grenades detonated with resounding booms, and the Brotherhood troopers staggered back from the flash, giving the attackers an opening, sinking their proverbial fangs into the Brotherhood's jugular. At the right upper arm of each attacker, a swatch of green cloth had been bound; the mark of the Inflitrators and their squad leader, Blaise Zabini.

One of the Brotherhood guards recovered, bringing his wand up in a conjuration. Instantly, one of the attackers was upon him, slamming down on his wand-hand with a polished oak escrima baton, causing him to drop the instrument. The cloaked feminine figure followed up by striking her batons into the enemy's stomach and head in rapid succession, sending him to the ground. Another Brotherhood member attempted to intervene, only to be cut down by a Reductor Curse in the shoulder, breaking the bone. Howling in pain, the wizarding supremacist was easy prey for a solid kick to the gut, folding him in twain. The black cloaked attackers used a combination of hand-to-hand weaponry, wand-cast spells and unarmed combat to great effect, casually tearing through the enemy with almost languished ease.

Pucey was no coward when his blood was roused. "Drive them back! Drive them back or we're finished! Fight!" he cried, storming into the fray, firing off a Cruciatus Curse. Inwardly, Pucey was shocked at the situation had gotten so bad as to warrant the use of Unforgivables, but he had no intention of being arrested regardless. He had to win, or at the very least escape, no matter the cost. If he could extract it from his enemies, all the better.

His target dodged the Cruciatus, staring angrily back at him with clear blue eyes, twirling her wand in great, concentric arcs. Four of the Brotherhood, Pucey included, were cast aside as if thrown by a gale-force wind, tearing the rat-eaten wallpaper and sending clouds of dust billowing around their boots in miniature cyclones. A strange hum descended over the Shack, and Pucey felt his hair stand on end as green light burst from the fingertips of the blue-eyed assailant. The effect on the Brotherhood was not lost on the black-cloaked women, who continued to mount the pressure, sending curses flying everywhere. Wands flashed, Brotherhood members fell, curses tore open sections of the Shack and sent splinters flying, and the reek of ozone became so thick as to make breathing difficult.

And then the wraiths came. Red eyed, sharp in tooth and claw, gnarled and twisted bodies of smoke, formed from the depth of the human imagination and the illusionary powers of the energies of Slytherin, they leapt from the darkness to devour the Brotherhood troopers and drag them into the depths of hell. Blaise had come far since that night in the North Tower, gaining a level of control over the magic she had once thought impossible, with a little help from Cho and Harry. The energies still frightened her, but she had grown to understand, perhaps even respect, the possibilities and dangers that went along with them. The stark, incredible terror that once gripped her was no more, and Blaise had found new strength as a Champion and a Marauder to combat these fears.

For the Brotherhood, though, the terror was just beginning as the wraiths swooped upon them on leathery wings, hissing and screeching like a flock of angry bats. Nothing, not even the voice of Merlin himself, could keep the wizarding supremacists in check, and they bolted, screaming in fright as the wraiths descended upon them, tearing at their hair and clothing. It was purely illusionary, yet it did not stop the enemy from breaking down completely. Like beads on a string, the final vestiges of the Brotherhood broke, running for their lives and scurrying out of every possible exit like rats in a flood. Those few who managed to escape the wraiths and Inflitrator spellfire wandered into the loving arms of Neville and Hermione's squads, who made certain that they would not escape.

Caught square in the chest with a Reductor Curse, Pucey could only lay on the rotten floor of the Shack, completely stunned, the wind driven from his lungs with the force of a jackhammer. Seeing the Inflitrators hovering over him unnervingly, he could only ask, "What the hell are you whores looking at?"

Movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and a curse slipped from his tongue. "You traitorous little whore," he hissed angrily, attempting to rise, only to be pinned down beneath the girl's boot. "To think that I ever trusted you!"

Dressed in the black robes and cloak of the Army of the Marauders, Daphne Greengrass smiled wickedly. "You can't betray something you had no loyalty to in the first place, Adrian darling. Consider it punishment for your sins." Her wand burst with red light, and Pucey fell Stunned before he could formulate a doubtlessly misogynistic response. "Merlin, it's good to have some peace and quiet around her."

Blaise laughed, throwing an arm around her colleague's shoulder. "It helps the air quality, for certain. Well done, ladies! Daphne, take some fighters and secure the attic. The rest of us will unshackle the prisoner and make sure all the resistance is cleared. Katrina, signal in the rest of the Army."

"We really won this one, didn't we?" Daphne asked, feeling somewhat light-hearted and giddy. Given the desperate and brutal nature of the war, any victory was one to be savoured, even one against such relatively weak opponents.

The Champion of Slytherin nodded, the exhilaration of the magic flowing from her limbs, leaving her somewhat worn. "Yes, Daphne, we did."

* * *

The Army of the Marauders assembled outside of the Shrieking Shack, maintaining a perimeter around the beaten and demoralized Brotherhood as they tended to the wounds of both factions. Harry had been adamant that the enemy wounded received treatment from Marauder field medics or sent up to the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's care, sensing an opportunity to nip these extremist elements in the bud. Many of the Brotherhood members muttered happily at the quality of their treatment, despite the numerous Marauders ready to wipe out any riots or attempted escapes. The centaur hunter had been freed, word had been dispatched to the castle regarding their success, and Harry now only waited for word from Cho and Luna regarding the Brotherhood force in the Lonely Wood. "Neville's been getting a bit anxious to find out how Luna's doing," Hermione explained, walking alongside Harry and Firenze as they observed the prisoners. "We can hardly blame him, really, we haven't heard from either Cho or Luna in some time." 

"It's doubtful that Cho's run into any problems," Harry opined. "She is a Champion after all, and both she and her squad are well-trained. As for Luna and the Ghosts, I'm sure that they're holding up as well. While it's nice of him to think of such things, I can't really let Neville go right now. Until the local Aurors or the teachers get down here, we'll need all the fighters we can spare to keep these guys under guard."

"We've taken their wands, and I doubt they're in much mood for a fight," Hermione expressed. "Come now, Harry, let Neville go with a few of his troops to look for Luna. It'll be of great consulation to him, and they might need more help than you think. Besides, with Ron and Ginny's teams alone, we'd be able to corral these guys."

Harry pondered her words for a moment before reconsidering. "Alright then, tell Neville he can go on ahead, but make sure he sends word back. The more I think about it, the more I feel our communications need to be improved."

As Hermione left to give the order, Firenze bowed before Harry with the greatest respect. "My thanks to you and yours for your heroism tonight, Harry Potter. Outcast though I may be, I shall travel back to the herd with news of the battle. Perhaps your selflessness and sacrifice will help them to understand that humans are not the enemy."

"Let us travel with you, Firenze," Harry asked, rather concerned for the centaurs' safety. He knew his friends could handle themselves against such broken enemies as the Brotherhood, but what Firenze was suggesting was tantamount to suicide. "They could kill you if they see you, and you may need some additional proof if they will believe your story."

Firenze shook his head. "Having a human speak in the middle of the Forest is precisely what will turn them against us. I cannot run from this destiny, Harry Potter. And if I were to die," the centaur shrugged in acceptance, "Needless to say, I would not be the first being to die for speaking the truth. Again, thank you for all you have done for us."

"And you have my thanks as well, Harry Potter," the centaur hunter said, trotting up to the young Champion, in fairly good health despite his ordeal. "Know that I, Ixion, will vouch for you and wizards at the gatherings of my people. May the stars light your path to safety."

"Thank you, Ixion, you too Firenze. If you ever need anything, either me or Dumbledore would be more than able to help."

The two centaur began to move off, accompanied by salutations and farewells from numerous Marauders and the sullen glares of the Brotherhood. "The sign of Jupiter holds high over your head, Harry Potter!" Firenze cried as they departed. "You have a greater destiny yet! Farewell!"

Once Firenze and Ixion had left, Harry turned over to Blaise, the Slytherin girl's lovely face flushed from the night's activities. "Well done tonight, Blaise. The Inflitrators did great. You've opened up a door for us as well; if Firenze and Ixion can convince the rest of the centaur that we're not enemies, we could have another ally to count on."

Blaise blushed. "Thanks, Harry, but don't spend all of your praise on me. It seems that Cho and Luna pulled through after all."

Turning to follow Blaise's outstretched hand, Harry laughed in glee as the Ravenwing and the Ghosts marched towards the Shrieking Shack with a score of prisoners in tow. Cho and Hannah Abbott had hoisted Luna upon their shoulders like a conquering hero, and soon the entire Army was cheering her name in triumph. For the enemy was routed, the centaur had been saved, and Luna Lovegood had proven herself to be amongst the best of them.

* * *

The laughter and merriment flowed in virtual rivers from the Room of Requirement, as the Army of the Marauders got down to celebrating their incredible victory. Of the ninety-three members involved in the battle, only a dozen were incapacitated by enemy spellwork, and only three of those required any medical attention or recuperation in the Hospital Wing. They had driven an equal number of the foe into the dirt with little cost to themselves, saved the hostage and paved the way for greater cooperation and dialogue between the Ministry of Magic and the centaur of the Forbidden Forest. All and all, it was a good night. The Room of Requirement was transformed from a militant training area into a large lounge, while food and drink was ordered up from the kitchens with the assistance of a helpful Dobby. The Army had fought, and fought well, so they had definitely earned some time to relax. Drinks were passed around, games of Exploding Snap and Wizarding poker emerged, and the conversation was lively and engaging. No House barriers existed here; Ravenclaws chatted with Gryffindors while Hufflepuffs flirted with Slytherins. They were all warriors, all mages, all worthy of friendship and respect, breaking down the old prejudices and embracing a new order of things. 

Nestled in the soft confines of a loveseat and somewhat sheltered from prying eyes, Harry and Cho sat in each other's arms, kissing each other softly. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," the beautiful Ravenclaw giggled, scuffing up his messy black hair. "Heck of a way to spend it though. Most guys would take a girl out to a Muggle film or a nice romantic dinner. You, on the other hand, brought me into a warzone." Cho laughed at Harry's horrified look. "I'm just kidding with you, love. I understood the risks, realized the necessity and accepted the dangers, you didn't force me into anything and the enemy couldn't even touch me. Besides, having you around is a Valentine's Day gift in of itself."

"Thanks, Cho," Harry said, kissing her softly and letting his hands caress her perfect hips, feeling the denim material of her jeans against his palm. "You did excellent out there tonight. Without the Ravenwing providing some air support, the Brotherhood might have taken the chance to use some Unforgivables. What about the enemy forces in the Lonely Wood? Did Luna need much in the way of assistance?"

Cho laughed. "Hardly. It was brilliant, Harry! She had the Brotherhood twisting in the wind, hitting them from every angle, dividing their numbers and generally confusing them straight to hell. Then she and a few of her squad placed themselves in-between both enemy groups and fired on both at once. I'm still not entirely sure how she did it, but she got the Brotherhood to start hexing each other, thinking each group were the Ghosts. I came in shortly after that to help mop up, but Luna deserves all the credit for that. You know it's her birthday today, right?"

Mentally, Harry slapped himself. "No, I honestly didn't," he said, feeling quite stupid and boorish at the moment. After all the trials Luna had been through and all the support she had given him, the least he could do was remember her birthday. He made the decision in a flash, kissing Cho once more before getting out of his seat, tapping the side of his goblet for silence. "Attention, everyone, attention!" he declared, embraced by cheers and wolf-whistles from the Marauders. "Alright then, settle down. This isn't about me; it's about us, our victory and what we've done here. I can truly say that you are some of the finest duellists that I've fought alongside. You all did well tonight. We defeated the Brotherhood and rescued the hostage without suffering great losses, and we stopped this reactionary nonsense at the same time. The Brotherhood certainly wasn't the greatest threat facing us, but one fewer enemy is cause for celebration. Remember that when the Death Eaters strike again. Remember that you faced down violent foes before, but stood strong and won. Each and every one of you contributed to this victory, so you should congratulate yourselves."

The Marauders roared in triumph. Seeing the proud smile adorning Cho's lovely visage, Harry continued, his voice gaining strength and power. "Sooner or later, word of our little battle is going to get out to the press and the public. They're going to ask why children have been fighting a war, if this was a battle over partisan ideas, or what gives us the right to play a game left to adults. If they ask you, tell them this: This _is_ our fight we're facing here. This _is_ our world that we're defending. This _is our future_ we're fighting for. For better or worse, when this war is over, we are the ones who have to live with the results. The responsible adults," he said, dripping with disrespect, inciting no few chuckles from the Marauders, "had their chance to set things right and they failed. We have to succeed where they didn't." He raised his mug high. "To peace in our time!"

"To peace!" the Marauders echoed back, toasting to that brighter future.

After the assembled students had drunk, Harry issued one final statement, green eyes meeting those of his comrades. "I said before that everyone helped to make this victory a reality, but one of us went above and beyond the call of duty tonight. Without support, without assistance, she and her squad removed nearly a third of the Brotherhood out of the picture, and defeated the foe with the aid of the most powerful weapon of all; her mind. She is both a true Ravenclaw and a true hero, so I'd like you all to give Luna Lovegood a round of applause. And, given that it's her birthday, we might as well horribly embarrass her in the process."

Cheers and applause exploded out from the various Marauders, and in the middle of it all, Luna turned beet-red, bashful at the amount of attention directed at her. A deafening, off-key chorus of Happy Birthday worthy of the Weasley clan enveloped her hearing, and the slender Ravenclaw girl allowed herself to laugh, tucking a strand of corn-tinted hair behind her ear. Neville sang the loudest and most boisterous of them all, serenading his unorthodox girlfriend in a clear tenor, taking her hand in his own. As the congratulations died down, Harry's voice spoke loud and clear. "Well, what are you stubborn lot waiting for? Enjoy yourselves!" The party burst back up again, and the Champion of Gryffindor noticed with no small measure of satisfaction that Luna was finding herself shaking hands and being congratulated by streams of well-wishers.

Cho came up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his shoulder. "That was very good of you, Harry. Luna's been belittled by too many people; this is certainly a welcome first step in the right direction."

"Great minds think alike, huh?" Harry joked, laughing with her. "So Luna used the old divide-and-conquer routine, right?"

"It was absolutely brilliant, Harry!" Cho emphasised. "Rowena's wand, she definitely earned her leadership position tonight. You should go and congratulate her in person, you know. While I'm sure she liked your ovation, she's probably appreciate a personal thanks as well."

Harry nodded. "You're probably right. I know that I would feel the same way in her shoes."

Blaise approached the two lovers with a disappointed pout. "Aren't you going to give me a standing ovation, Harry?" she asked in a sarcastic, burlesque tone. "Oh, to be a Slytherin in such a noble band! I'll probably have to hang myself out of the shame."

Despite herself, Cho couldn't keep the smile from burst out. "Our apologies, Blaise. True be told, you did an excellent job tonight, and we're quite indebted to you. Nice trick with the wraiths too. It looks like you've finally gotten the energies of Slytherin under control, so good for you!"

The pretty Slytherin retreated into a modest pose. "I just did what I had to do, and all the practice we've been having helped. But the rest of the Inflitrators really did well, Daphne especially. Thanks for giving them that chance to prove themselves, both of you."

"It's no problem," Harry replied.

"Quite true," Cho added, looking at the Champion of Slytherin with a strange look on her face. "Harry, why don't you go and give Luna that congratulations she's been deserving? Blaise and I need to have a quiet chat just between us girls anyway."

While certainly not the most attuned to the thoughts and desires of women, Harry knew precisely what his beautiful lover meant by that. "Sure thing, Cho. I'll see if I can grab us some food on the way back too, you're both probably famished."

"Thanks, Harry," Blaise said, watching him with a small measure of disappointment as he disappeared into the throng of partying Marauders. "Cho, if this is about -"

"It is, actually," the beautiful Ravenclaw replied, taking Blaise by the arm and moving her into a more quiet corner of the room. "Harry told me about that little kiss of yours the moment he returned back from visiting you that night. I should be bloody furious with you," she snapped, quickly mollifying her tone. "But what happened that night justifies as extenuating circumstances, and I know Harry would never betray me in such a fashion. I also know that you had a damn good reason for doing so. Just…please don't do it again. I can only appeal out of our friendship, nothing more."

"Listen, Cho, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings and all, or opened up a rift between you and Harry. I didn't mean for any of those things to happen."

The sensual Ravenclaw smiled warmly in response, shifting a raven-black tress out of her face. "It's very considerate of you to think of that, Blaise, but Harry and I managed to avoid any ill complications regarding your encounter. The fact that he didn't initiate it and that he told me immediately did a lot to soften the blow, though I was a bit cross with him for about a day afterward. I know, that night, you were hurting, and that you needed some comfort to help ease the pain, but I need to know that you won't try something like that again, okay? If I'm to trust you and work alongside you, I need to know it was a one-time thing."

Blaise was silent for a moment before answering, wringing her hands nervously. "Cho…Yes. Yes, it was a one-time thing. I just came out of that Tower shocked and ashamed and despised of who I was, and then your boyfriend was there, helping me to calm down, giving me a shoulder to cry on, telling me that everything was going to be alright. Merlin's beard, he even stayed after I said these really horrible things to him and generally acted like a complete bitch in front of him." The willowy Slytherin looked at her erstwhile rival, the beginnings of tears forming in her blue eyes. "It was honestly the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me, and I was tired, and he was so beautiful, and…it happened. There's no excuse for it, but needless to say, I get now why you fell in love with him."

"He wasn't always like that," Cho reminded her, "But he's come a long way since the Tri-Wizard Tournament and all the foolishness resulting. At one point, he could barely talk to girls openly, much less gain an emotional connection with them. That being said, he's capable of realizing his mistakes and working to improve them, something that makes him truly special. Yes, I can forgive you for doing that, and I trust you not to do that again."

Blaise smiled, bowing her head in thanks. "Although, I must say, he certainly made it worth my while," she purred ravishingly, gently teasing her comrade-in-arms. "Are you certain Harry minds sharing?"

"Don't get any funny ideas, Zabini," Cho said, taking it all in good humour. "I've had enough trouble keeping Ginny away from him in the past, I don't want you to add to it!" The two girls laughed, mending the patches and fraying in their friendship. A few minutes later, Harry rejoined them with a basket of snacks under his shoulder, and the three Champions spent the next half-hour talking amongst themselves, joking and gossiping. Blaise was particularly interested in knowing how her friends would deal with the upcoming Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match. "It's not going to cause any problems, I wouldn't think," Cho explained, letting her head rest on Harry's shoulder. "Harry might be a bit miffed when he loses the Snitch, but he's a big boy, so he'll get over it."

"I love you beyond measure, Cho, but that Snitch is mine, I'm afraid," Harry replied back, kissing her on the cheek.

Cho huffed at the thought of losing. "And they consider us Ravenclaws ivory-tower dreamers."

"You willing to bet on that, Ms. Chang? A Ravenclaw victory over Gryffindor?"

"Absolutely," Cho replied. "Though I doubt you could pay my price, Harry Potter."

"Somehow, I'm certain I'll win either way," said Harry, nuzzling the curve of the Ravenclaw's neck. "The match is when? At the very end of March?"

Cho nodded. "Yes, then another week of school, followed by the spring break, then our exams. With all of the schoolwork and essays we'll be doing, it won't be a pleasant holiday, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you'll do great on your NEWTs, Cho," Blaise declared. "You're a brilliant student, and if what Harry's told me is true, you should have no trouble with the tests at all. Defense Against the Dark Arts should be a breeze, and it seems to me that you're pretty good at Transfiguration and Charms too."

"Don't forget Potions," Harry added in his two Knuts. "You've really helped me a lot in that course. Even Snape won't harass you when it's something that important. He might do it to the Gryffindors, but a Ravenclaw? You'll do great."

The beautiful Ravenclaw softened at their comments. "Thank you, both of you, but it's not as simple as that. I'll still need to review all of my notes for the NEWTs and study as much as I can, but my parents aren't going to make it easy for me."

"What do you mean," Harry inquired, fearing the worst.

His fears were soon verified. "My parents expect me to return home for my eighteenth birthday, it's right after the Quidditch match, and they'll want me to stay for several days. Zhang's going to be there, so I'll have to leave my books behind and powder my nose for the perverse toad. When I could be training, studying or going to classes, I'll spend my birthday keeping his paws away from places they shouldn't be, and generally acting like a vapid, airheaded housewife to please him." Cho's shoulders trembled with anger beneath her leather jacket, and the beautiful Ravenclaw looked close to erupting. "Damn them. They couldn't wait just a week for me to be there! A week! Instead, my studies will be disrupted, Professor Flitwick and Dumbledore have to be bothered by this stupidity, and I'll be put behind at a time when I need to be running along at my best. It's almost like they're hoping to sink my academic career in hopes that I won't have any place to escape when Zhang asks for my hand."

Blaise spat out a curse. "That's just so selfish of them. Why on earth would they consider doing that?"

Cho made a derisive noise. "They think that in order to be a good Chinese person, one has to follow tradition blindly, accept everything about the culture without critically considering it. Myself, I think that no one culture or way of life has a monopoly on knowledge, and that taking the best elements from each and discarding the worst is necessary to live happily. Besides, it's the twenty-first century! We shouldn't have to be constrained by old ways of thinking if they don't work. As proud as I am of my cultural heritage, even I can admit when part of it is wrong."

"Perhaps I should come with you, Cho," Harry offered, concerned for this woman, who had become a spouse in all but name. "Maybe we can make them listen, rethink what they're doing."

"No," Cho replied swiftly, touched by his affection for her but unwilling to budge. "No, Harry, this is my fight, and one I cannot pass along to anyone else. I am going to return for my birthday, but I'll not stay for long. Just long enough to shove Zhang's teeth down his _bloody_ throat, and if my parents decide to disown me, I can accept it. Material possessions mean nothing if you have to sacrifice your freedom to enjoy them." She smiled reassuringly, giving Harry a warm hug. "I'll be alright, love. I promise."

Harry nodded his head weakly, rather shaken by the news. It seemed impossible that after all the trials, all the battles, all the tears wept and blood spent, that his relationship with Cho could be broken apart by the pigheadedness of her parents. The thought scared him more than he ever considered possible. He had grown accustomed to the young woman's presence, her beautiful long hair, her concerned and pleasant voice, her intelligent, strong-willed demeanour, and the idea of losing her was…heart-wrenching. Harry could understand her desire to face her problems alone; if the Dursleys were to put him into a similar position, he would certainly want to solve it himself. And he was grateful that Cho would risk disownment for his sake, but it infuriated the Champion that they should have to face this foolishness to begin with. They had enough on their plates to deal with already.

"He makes a single wrong step, Harry and I will deal with him," Blaise said, coming to the defence of her friend. "Don't let pride keep you from getting help if you need it."

"Thanks, Blaise," Cho replied sincerely. "In the meantime though, I'll just have to do what I can with the schoolwork situation. Perhaps the two of you could keep me up to date in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Before Harry could answer, a new figure entered into the Room of Requirement, exerting dismay and pride in equal measure. "I'm afraid that this celebration will have to wait for another evening, students," Professor Minerva McGonagall presented, receiving boos and groans in reply. "Headmaster Dumbledore is insistent that this party does not run through the night, and that you all get some rest. And are those cards I see in your hand, Mr. Longbottom?"

"No, marm," Neville said meekly, shoving the pack of cards into his jean pocket, along with the winnings from his poker game.

"Good to hear," the stern Transfiguration Professor remarked, turning her attention to Harry and the other Champions. "Mr. Potter? The Headmaster would like a word with you and your two companions. Please, follow me."

Looking from Cho to Blaise and back again, Harry complied, taking the time to congratulate or offer salutations to many of the Marauders as they left. Telling Ron and Hermione that he'd be returning to Gryffindor Tower shortly, the Champion of Gryffindor asked as to the nature of Dumbledore's request. "I assume that Dumbledore wants to learn what happened out there tonight."

"That is most certainly part of it," McGonagall answered, "but the Headmaster is very proud of your work tonight, Mr. Potter, as am I. To think that open war might have broken out in the halls of the school, if it were not for your group's efforts. I must talk to Professor Snape and see what he can do about preventing such an uprising from occurring again."

The four reached Dumbledore's study, an exclamation of "Lemon Drops" opening the door to his inner sanctum. "And what else did Dumbledore want us for?" Harry inquired, taking Cho's hand as they ascended up the steep staircase. "Couldn't he wait for the morning?"

"He certainly could, Mr. Potter," said Amelia Lauren Bones, Minister of Magic, standing next to Dumbledore's desk, her monocled right eye staring intently at the young man. "Personally, I had hoped to talk with you as soon as possible, while certain details are fresh in your memory." The new Minister gave a ghost's shadow of a smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potter, and under _reasonably_ positive circumstances. Can you still cast that corporeal Patronus of yours?"

"It's like riding a broom, ma'am," Harry answered, moving to shake her hand. Nervousness had made him tense, and he walked forward on frozen joints like that monster from those old Muggle films, the one created by that mad scientist with the messiah complex. "You can never really forget, and since I've taught some of the other students how to do it, I'm certain it'll stick with me."

The Minister gave a dry laugh. "I'm glad to hear it. Anyone can learn how to do something, but to teach others? It shows you have true talent."

Harry blushed, surprised yet pleased that Bones remembered him for more than just being 'The Boy Who Lived.' "Thank you, ma'am."

"And you must be Cho Chang," Bones said, shaking Cho's hand, taking note of her strong, callused grip. "Would you be of any relation to one Mr. Han Chang?"

The beautiful intellectual looked rather stunned by the question. "Yes, he's my father, actually. Do you know him?"

Bones nodded. "I had the pleasure of dining with him this past November. I've always found it useful to keep an ear to the ground, and get away from the halls of the Ministry from time to time; it helps me to learn what's really going on. A bit of a cold fish, if I may say so, but a decent fellow all-round. Rumour has it that you're applying for an internship at St. Mungo's upon graduation?"

"Either there or at the College of Sages in Iceland," Cho explained. "I've always felt the desire to give back to the community, becoming a Healer would be a good way to do so."

"I'm certain that you shall do well," Bones commented, moving on to the final Champion. "Miss Zabini, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaise answered politely, anticipating her next question. "My mother is Esmeralda Zabini, she entered Slytherin House about twenty-five years ago. Did you know her?"

The Minister shook her head, the lines on her face drawing taut. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Zabini, I had left Hogwarts before that. Regardless, I doubt you're a woman who relies upon the stature of others to guide your destiny. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm certain you know Arthur Weasley, my new Undersecretary," she said, gesturing towards the balding wizard, looking as pleased as punch to see Harry again. "And my personal assistant, Penelope Clearwater, she's been a great help to me lately. She organized the mass mailing of the evidence against Fudge; Merlin knows where I'd be without her."

"Hello, Cho," Penelope greeted, giving the Champion of Ravenclaw a tight hug. Harry only knew the girl as Percy's girlfriend, but it appeared that she and Cho had some past history together. He had to admit she looked rather fetching in her black, professional business robes, long black hair done up in a small bun, and the young Gryffindor vaguely wondered if Percy appreciated the reserved girl to the extent she deserved. "It's lovely to see you again. How are the NEWTs coming along?"

"Don't ask," Cho replied, erupting in a fit of giggles.

Ushering Bones to a well-stuffed chair, Dumbledore looked over the group with that signature twinkle in his eye. "Well then, now that the introductions are complete, perhaps we should get onto the order of business. The Brotherhood of Merlin has been confined, and I've sent their leaders over to the Aurors for punishment. Hogwarts owes you and the Army of the Marauders a great debt, Harry. While it pains me to see students fighting amongst one another in such a fashion, your forces showed great restraint in the Brotherhood's apprehension."

"McGonagall was telling me about the statistics from this evening's labours," Bones stated, adding an extra lump of sugar into her tea. "Only a dozen of your fighters incapacitated compared to the entire hundred of the enemy? And only three of those injuries needing medical attention? Shows the quality of your troops, and your leadership, Mr. Potter, if such numbers are to be believed."

Harry found himself fidgeting in his seat, taking on an air of modest. "A general is only as good as the troops he leads, and the officers who command them, Madam Minister. I just did what I could to stop them."

"And the staff shall be doubly vigilant to ensure that nothing like the Brotherhood can form again." Dumbledore added, turning towards Blaise. "It was Ms. Zabini that first informed us of the danger posed by this group, and Mr. Potter and Ms. Chang who developed the winning strategy. Mr. Potter, in particular, was insistent that the Army of the Marauders strike any blows."

"Why was that, Harry?" Arthur asked, somewhat concerned that his children might have been endangered.

Harry shrugged. "It didn't make sense for the Aurors to spend their time dealing with kids," he said empathically, hoping that the elder Weasley would not be disappointed in him. "It would have been a media nightmare and alone fuelled doubts in the Minister's leadership. Besides, I wanted to show the Army that they were capable of defending themselves against Dark intrusions. Having them test themselves against the Brotherhood was a great way to boost their spirits, give them confidence."

"A sound strategy, Mr. Potter," interjected Bones, looking up at him slyly from her teacup. From there, the conversation turned to the reaction of the centaur. Dumbledore was confident that the tribe in the Forbidden Forest would be more amiable to joining forces against Voldemort, but Bones was more pessimistic. "It's not that I don't want them on our side, Dumbledore, but honestly, why should they join us? The actions of the Army of the Marauders might start paving the way, but we're talking about centuries of bigotry and mistrust here. The Ministry has bullied them around for decades at the very least. If I were them, I'd be willing to see all humans as enemies, Dark or otherwise." Talk shifted to other areas of policy, the status of the war, and the Champions contributed where they felt it was necessary. All the while, Penelope acted as stenographer, dutifully taking down notes for the Ministry's official records. Harry felt strangely at ease with the new Minister, and honestly believed he could discuss any subject with her, or put forth any opinion without fear of blacklisting or slander. She was a democrat and a patriot, driven in her focus and possessing an equal temper of compromise and resolve. Bones was a serious woman and a serious leader, and Harry felt a swell of confidence at his chest, that this was a leader worth fighting beside.

"Have you made progress making any sort of military alliance with the other magical governments?" Cho questioned, stretching to ease a lingering ache in her neck. "I've heard that the Ministry has been in talks with the Mesopotamian Circle in having them bring troops to England. Any success on that front?"

Bones suddenly looked exhausted, leeched of life. "In a way, Ms. Chang. Truth be told, this hasn't been such a good night for the Ministry, and given that I'm going to be asking you some pretty stern questions later on, I might as well give you the full story. This evening, while you were facing off against the Brotherhood, the Death Eaters attempted to covertly overthrow the Ministry. They were using a variety of agents and Imperius-controlled subjects, and did a fair amount of damage before we brought them down. Alan Thicknesse came at me with a penknife during the process; so needless to say, it's been a long evening."

Harry froze in his chair, praying that he hadn't heard her correctly. A coup attempt at the Ministry? While he had long suspected that Voldemort had his spies and saboteurs within the magical government, the idea that the Dark Lord could take it over with the snap of a finger was a horrifying one. Momentarily, Harry thought of the evils Voldemort could commit should he gain such a foothold; kangaroo courts, roaming death squads hunting down Muggleborns, a policy of oppression and genocide for all but a favoured few. "What happened?" he asked, terrified by the possibilities.

"Three days ago, the Spirit Walkers assigned to us discovered that several of the Ministry employees were being mind controlled via Imperius Curse by one of Voldemort's agents. Under interrogation, we learned that the agent in question had been directing their movements for months, right under Fudge's nose. The Aurors took on the case, and we began to uncover up to seven dedicated Death Eaters working undercover in the Ministry, controlling a few dozen people overall."

"You-Know-Who panicked," Arthur Weasley explained to the assembled group. "Seeing his fifth column being dismantled right before their eyes, either he or one of his subordinates gave the order to attack. The remaining spies launched their attack, but they were too few to bring down the Ministry by that point. Still, it's been a rough evening. About nine people are dead, not counting the Death Eaters involved, and we've been working overtime with the Spirit Walkers making sure our people are completely loyal."

"Minister ibn-Sistani was in talks with me this very evening, so he got caught up in the mess a bit. He's a bit shaken, but he'll be fine, and if nothing else, the attempted coup demonstrated the threat to him. While he said he'd have to contact the rest of his government, it appears that we might count upon some military support arriving soon from the Circle."

Taking a moment to look up from her note-taking, Penelope explained. "Minister ibn-Sistani has suggested that the Mesopotamian Circle could send in the Saladin Legion to aid us. A hundred battle-ready witches and wizards would certainly help to take the pressure off, and enable us to deploy more troops in offensive operations."

"A full hundred!" Blaise exclaimed.

"Hopefully more, if we can work out similar arrangements with other magical governments. But the Mesopotamian forces are a good start, they're highly-trained and experienced, so they'll be of great help to us," Bones declared. "It will take time to repair the damages caused by the Death Eater coup attempt, but it's a far better situation than what would have happened if they were successful."

Penelope continued to brief the group. "According to the best intelligence from the Unspeakables, the infiltration of the Ministry was organized by a man we only know as Asmodeus. From what we can tell, Asmodeus is the right-hand man of You-Know-Who, acting as the operational overseer of Voldemort's campaign. The Dark Lord outlines an overall strategy, Asmodeus makes it happen. Stormfury fought him at the Riddle Manor, where he declared that he was the mastermind behind the December offensive. He's a formidable duellist and a ruthless tactician, perhaps on par with or greater than Bellatrix Lestrange herself."

"Asmodeus," Cho mused, feeling something nagging at her brain. "Why didn't this Asmodeus launch a coup attempt while Fudge was in power? Certainly then, resistance would have been minimal, he could have taken over the entire Ministry without breaking a sweat."

Bones snorted angrily at the mention of her predecessor. "Fudge was an incompetent fool, and made no real effort to take the fight to the Death Eaters. Voldemort had nothing to gain from taking down his administration when so many other targets presented much more of a threat. Now that the Ministry is regaining the initiative, he feels it necessary to shift focus against us."

"You have to understand," Mr. Weasley said with deathly seriousness, "that You-Know-Who-"

"Say his name, Arthur," Bones chided him.

"Sorry, Voldemort then- is very cunning. He knows that if a strong coalition is created to stand against him, he will be defeated. That's why he's picking his battles and trying to turn us against each other, along with recruiting all of these allies. If enough wizards stand up to him, he can't win."

Harry posed the question on everyone's mind. "So, are we winning or losing, then?"

An uncomfortable silence followed, broken by a gentle cough from Minister Bones. "It's hard to tell at this point, actually. While the Shadow Hunters and our new offensive strategy have certainly been paying dividends, the tempo of the raids is still fairly high, especially as Voldemort's werewolf and vampire allies step in. We're gaining troops, but so are the Death Eaters. Move, countermove, and so forth. The Ministry is looking for ways to help break this deadlock, and that's part of the reason why I've asked to speak with you tonight. What can you tell me about the energies of the Founders?"

The three Champions looked at each other warily, while Dumbledore remained motionless, dispassionate to the Minister's request. After a moment, Bones sighed, massaging her growing headache. "I understand that you have no love for the Ministry, and given the way you've been treated by those such as Fudge and Umbridge, it's a position I can completely understand. However, I need you to trust me when I say I have no ulterior motives in wanting to learn of your powers. I'll swear an Unbreakable Vow if it will assuage your fears."

Cho gasped at the proposal, while Harry and Blaise simply appeared shocked. They had studied the Unbreakable Vow in Charms; it was a powerful binding spell that ensured that those participating would be forced to obey the terms of an agreement upon pain of death. An archaic and dangerous spell, it was rarely used today, usually for blood-oaths and pledges of loyalty. Bones was essentially offering herself up as collateral in a promise of good faith, and Harry could only wonder how important she considered the Champions if she was willing to make such a bargain. "I'm certain that won't be necessary, Minister," Cho answered, apparently coming to the same conclusion. "You have been quite honest with us this evening. While I can't speak for Harry and Blaise, I'd be more than happy to share my experiences regarding the magic with you."

"Oh, in for a penny, in for a pound," Blaise said, leaning back in her chair.

Harry volunteered as well. "So then, what would you like to know?" This meeting had demonstrated that Bones was far more effective and honest than Fudge ever was, dedicated to the people and able to formulate policy of actual substance. There was no frippery or pizzazz surrounding the new Minister, she seemed relatively uninspiring and cold at a distance, but she appeared to be a credible leader. The Ministry had been salt in Harry's wounds for years, yet he felt himself trusting her with such important information all the same.

So, for the next fifteen minutes, the Champions related their experiences with the magic to the elderly bureaucrat, giving her as complete a picture as possible regarding the energies of the Founders. From time to time, Bones, Weasley or Clearwater interjected to ask a question; When did they learn of the magic? How did it spark? What have been the limitations? Has it proven equally effective against all targets, or have there been discrepancies? What about the visions Miss Chang has seen? The Minister was polite but thorough in her questioning, making certain to cover all the pertinent details. When they were finished, Bones adjusted her monocle sagely. "The Four Founders of Hogwarts had children. If I hadn't heard the story from your mouths, I doubt I would have believed it. The history of the Founders has been constantly debated, examined and twisted to fit whatever political ideology got its hands on it. Needless to say, it's good to have an authoritative source on the matter." Her expression darkened. "Now, what do you intend on doing with it? And I don't mean to ask you if you intend to opposing the Ministry, I'm a critical thinker, not a paranoid."

"For the most part, we'll stay in Hogwarts, keep training, keep preparing," Harry said, receiving nods from his compatriots. "If you or the Aurors need our assistance for a specific mission, we'll do what we can to help. But we are students, not professional soldiers, and we're certainly not under the beck and call of the Ministry either."

"We have lives to live," Cho exclaimed, "and while we recognize that Voldemort needs to be defeated, we cannot leave the school unprotected. Should the war still wage after I graduate, I would be more than happy to assist the Aurors full-time, but I will not interrupt my education and vigil over Hogwarts at the moment. In times of great emergency, yes, but not while I'm so close to achieving my dreams here."

Blaise added in her two Knuts. "Harry and Cho are right; we have enough on our plates without becoming full-fledged Aurors. As well, I'm hoping that with Malfoy gone and the Brotherhood crushed, I can make some progress removing Voldemort's influence from Slytherin House. Most of them are just kids, and I'm not going to have some hat damn them into a lifetime of service to the Death Eaters."

"Understandable," the Minister said. "I'm a little uncertain about using children to fight wars myself, but it's good to know that we can count on you if things get rough out there." She glanced at Penelope, who was pointing at a rough, leonine sketch. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. I should return to the Ministry to see how the repairs are going, and old Rufus Scrimgeour probably screaming from anyone with a black pair of trousers to be arrested on suspicion of being Death Eaters. Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mister Potter, Miss Chang, Miss Zabini, Dumbledore. I'll leave you to your business then, and thank you."

The group rose to leave, shaking hands with the Ministry personnel on the way out. "It's been a wonder to see you again, Cho," Penelope whispered, embracing the younger girl in a sisterly hug. "We should have lunch sometime, for we have lots to catch up on."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Penny," Cho replied. "Mr. Weasley! I'm Cho Chang. It's a pleasure to finally meet you…"

"Mr. Potter!" Bones exclaimed as Harry made his way out. "Might I have a word with you in private?" She gave Dumbledore an apologetic look. "My apologies for forcing you out of your own study, Headmaster."

"No apologies are needed, Madam," Dumbledore said with raised hands, giving his benediction to Harry.

After the various bureaucrats, students and the Headmaster had filtered out; Bones turned her attentions towards Harry. "Breaking school rules, defying established authority, consorting with those considered socially unacceptable…Quite the liberal specimen, aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

"I just do what I feel is right and needed," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably. What had Minister Bones deemed so important that she was forced to consult him privately? "Is there some problem with our discussion of the Founders? Do you need something cleared up?"

"Not as such," Bone answered. "I owe you an apology, on behalf of the entire Ministry of Magic. It's doubtlessly too little, too late in your mind, but I feel the need to say it anyway. Fudge was wrong to blacklist you so last year, and the Ministry was wrong for letting it continue. And yes, I include myself on the tally; I had the power to turn against Fudge and ready our people for war, but I chose not to."

Harry was fairly shocked by this statement. "So why didn't you?"

"Because I swore an oath to defend my country and its people, Mr. Potter. As much as I tried to act as a dissenting voice in the Wizengamot, Fudge was elected fairly, and until I could find the evidence needed to oust him, I was forced to obey his wishes. It's illegal to finance revolutionaries and terrorists, Mr. Potter, but it's hardly a crime to be an idiot. Otherwise, Azkaban would be overflowing. I cannot help but feel responsible for your ordeal at Umbridge's hands, and the violence that has spread across the country even now." Bones shook her head in self-depreciation. "My sense of duty overthrew my common sense, Mr. Potter, a common hazard of politics. Though I dare say that you and I share something; we have had greatness thrust upon us, and must now perform to the best of our abilities. While I cannot make up for the scar you still bear on your hand, I can offer you this small compensation." Producing a sealed manila envelope from the folds of her cloak, Bones handed it to Harry.

His eyes lighting up with barely contained joy, Harry gazed at the thick Ministry seal adorning the letter before breaking it upon, reading the contents within. _Certificate of Pardon: Sirius Regulus Black_. Hastily scanning over the pages, Harry felt the tears well up, even after all this time. "He's been pardoned?"

"Posthumously, but it is a pardon nonetheless," Bones stated. "It should have happened years ago. He never should have been thrown in prison at all. It's a poor compensation for your loss, Mr. Potter, but I'm the Minister of Magic, not Merlin. Would that I could raise Black from the dead or travel back in time to save him, but I cannot. I can only offer my condolences for your loss and give you my word that I shall not happen again. This pardon necessary wipes the charge from the books, and the Prophet shall be doing a small piece on it to inform the public of the mistrial. If that's a small price to pay for our sins, then I will gratefully accept it."

Wiping the moisture from his cheeks, Harry took a seat beside the Minister. "Honestly, thank you," the Champion of Gryffindor said, taking the time to look over the document, making sure everything was in order. "You're right, it's not going to bring him back, but at least Sirius can rest knowing that his name has been cleared. Again, thank you."

"It's the least I can do for one who has done so much. And I don't mean your first defeat of the Dark Lord specifically, but your more recent actions in Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. You no longer have to base your appeal on your mother's sacrifice, but instead your own. We'll need all the heroes we can get aiding us, whether it's the other Champions and yourself, the Aurors, or Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix."

Harry froze. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am."

"Don't be stupid, boy," Bones' voice took on a more acidic tone. "I know Albus Dumbledore well enough to know that he wouldn't just idly stand by and watch as Voldemort ravaged this country. He actually approached me with an offer of recruitment several months ago, but I declined. I'm certain he's asked you to join the Order already, or has his sense of morals gotten in the way? Just remember, Mr. Potter, you may consider me a friend in all your future endeavours, including your enrolment in the Auror Academy. We've spent too much time squabbling amongst ourselves when the real enemy lay beyond our sight, and I intend on seeing Voldemort destroyed once and for all." She shook Harry's hand once more. "Let this evening begin a new era of cooperation and assistance between us."

The Champion took her outstretched hand gratefully. "I look forward to it, Madam." He paused for a moment, a question coming to mind. "How much are you going to share the information on the energies of the Founders?"

Bones smiled. "I'm certainly not going to post it in the Prophet, if that's what you're asking. And given that we barely survived an uprising tonight, I think it would be best to keep it only amongst my inner Cabinet, and even then, only when the need arises. You've certainly had enough obsessive analysis of your personal life, Mr. Potter, and I'll not contribute to it. Pleasure meeting you again, Mr. Potter. Carry on."

* * *

"So, what did Madam Bones want to talk about?" the lovely Cho Chang asked as she and Harry journeyed to the comforts of Ravenclaw Tower, hand in hand. With the party having broken up, and Blaise returning to the Slytherin dormitories, the two lovers had little to do but walk and chat with one another. All the same, it was a fulfilling experience, and both enjoyed the quiet moments, away from the war or the nagging gossip of Hogwarts social life. 

"Just wanted to apologize for all the nonsense the Ministry put me through, as well as give me this," Harry replied, handing her the letter. "It's a Certificate of Pardon, wipes Sirius' conviction from the records."

Cho gasped, throwing her arms around him. "Harry, this is wonderful!" Kissing him on the cheek, the girl directed Harry's eyes to meet her own, stroking his face comfortingly. "He loved you to the very end, you understand that, right? From what you've described of him to me, I fail to reach any other conclusion."

"I know," Harry said, resting for a moment, his back to the corridor wall. "I just miss him so much, even after all this time. He should be here to live out the rest of his life in freedom, meet you, maybe chat with Remus about the good old days…" The young man's eulogizing stalled with a choked sob, and Harry let himself weep for his fallen godfather. "I'm sorry for blubbering on this like you, Cho. I-"

The brilliant Ravenclaw laughed, silencing him with a kiss. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, love. Grief is a natural emotion, including at times like this. Sirius seemed like a great man."

"He was," Harry stated flatly, holding the girl tightly for support. "Thanks again for everything, Cho."

"It's no problem," she answered, linking arms with the Champion of Gryffindor. "I had a nice little chat with Arthur while you were talking with Bones, and he seems like a nice fellow. He just wanted to thank me for helping to save Ron in the Forbidden Forest, and wondered why you didn't introduce me to the Weasleys sooner."

"They like you, huh?"

Cho blushed. "He even invited me to Bill and Fleur's wedding during the summer, and he mentioned that Mrs. Weasley might be sending me a jumper in the mail." She shrugged coyly, tucking a lock of raven-black hair behind her ear, a mannerism that Harry found very attractive. "I was worried that they'd react like Ginny and accuse me of vamping you, but I guess I misjudged them. A common flaw of mine. So, do you have any class in the morning?"

"Double Transfiguration," Harry explained. "Then Quidditch practice during my free period, meaning I have to get to bed early tonight. I'll see you to Ravenclaw Tower before I go though."

"Thank you, Harry. I'm sorry I threw all of that Zhang stuff onto your plate tonight, but I had only just gotten the letter, and I wanted to be open with you about it…"

Placing a finger over her full pink lips, Harry shushed the young woman. "Everybody needs to let these things out, Cho, and I don't hold that against you. When we got back together, I promised that I would always try to help you, no matter what. I'm just doing my duty by listening about it."

The beautiful Chinese girl smiled, kissing him softly in front of Ravenclaw Tower, shuddering in pleasure as his hands brushed against the curve of her breast. "Good to hear. Anyways, I'd best get some rest. Good night, sweet Harry," she whispered kissing him once more before turning to the portrait hole. The young sorceress felt reassured now, that no matter what happened, the love that she and Harry had forged remained unbreakable. "I love you."

"I love you too," Harry said huskily, embracing her one final time before she stepped into the Tower. Worn down from the night's events, Harry left his attention rest on the girl's back before heading back to Gryffindor Tower, enveloped and nurtured by Cho's love all the while. Resolving to put aside any further consideration of his shadowy rival in Zhang, the Champion of Gryffindor walked through the halls with a spring in his step. The battle had been won, his commitment to the woman of his dreams stronger than ever, and the black mark on his godfather's name erased from the passage of history. Today had turned out to be a very good day.

* * *

"For one who makes a living killing such beasts, Macnair, you certainly possess an aptitude for raising them," came the deadly, sibilant hiss of Voldemort as he stared upon his latest prize. The golden, creamy fur of the gryphons stood out in contrast to the grime-covered and dank confines of Hell Pit, though soot and dust from the excavation had already begun to tarnish their coats. Dark blood encrusted several flesh wounds, but otherwise they were unharmed. Rattling their cages ferociously, the beasts attempted to tear away at the powerful chains affixing their arms and legs with their curved beaks, but the goblin-forged steel held firm. "Yes, these two will make an excellent addition to my menagerie. Are they a breeding pair?" 

Macnair lowered his head in affirmation. "As you instructed, my Lord, though it was difficult to recover such specimens. When the new Eden is built, every magical species we can collect will be invaluable. Such creatures are simply too magnificent to perish in the purging fires."

A second shadow to his master, Asmodeus cocked his head, staring firmly at one of the snarling creatures. "What of plant life, magical and non-magical? Have we acquired enough samples to have a successful regrowth?"

"Of course. The slaves are tending to them as we speak. Numerous forms of vegetation have been collected, and still more varieties are gathered daily. We will have more than enough."

"And all will be needed when the Grand Crusade reaches its fruition, my servant," Voldemort stated, his lipless mouth turning up into something vaguely reminiscent of a smile, or as far as the inhuman sorcerer could manage. "You have done well, Macnair. When you arrived faithfully at my rebirth, I informed you that your skills would be put to hunting more dangerous game than this. Lord Voldemort has not forgotten those words, and your services here have earned you that privilege many times over. When the time is right, you will have the opportunity to hunt the most dangerous prey conceived, as per my plans. You are dismissed."

As Macnair turned back to his duties, Voldemort focused his attention on his chief lieutenant. "Make report to me, my faithful servant. How goes the war?"

"Our attempts at infiltrating the Ministry have unfortunately collapsed, my Lord. Our agents inside the government and our Imperius-cursed puppets were uncovered by the Aurors and those damned Spirit Walkers," Asmodeus said, shaking with rage. Voldemort had groomed and moulded the young man into a reflection of his own horror, his own image, thus the Dark Lord's all-consuming hatred for failure burned deep inside the First Death Eater. "I was forced to activate to activate the remaining cells, and while they did damage and caused confusion inside the Ministry buildings, they were unfortunately defeated. It is unlikely that we will get a second attempt at such a coup."

"An unfortunate setback, my servant, but one I shall survive. I had hoped to overthrow the Ministry and usurp its own resources to aid the Grand Crusade, however, the powers I have gathered here make such subversion unnecessary. What of my legions, Asmodeus? Where do we stand?"

The First Death Eater listed the developments as the two climbed the staircase leading to Voldemort's inner sanctum. "Isolde has brought the assembled vampire clans of Europe under her wing, and her followers continue to draw and press more into her service. The leaders of those clans that defied here have been slain; a few have fled for the New World and Asia. The rest now serve her. Ulric's revolutionary campaign has born fruit, and his ranks swell by a few hundred now from across the world. Most magical governments despise lycanthropes, so he's had no shortage of recruits."

"A good start," Voldemort muttered. The Dark Lord hated and distrusted werewolves, seeing them as a corruption of healthy magical stock, a cancer not unlike the Mudbloods. Still, they were proving to be useful tools, and every fighter he could muster would be needed for the final assault. "What of my Death Eaters? How have the recruitment campaigns abroad gone?"

"Successfully, my Lord. The lands of America and the Far East have garnered a healthy stock of purebloods willing to fight and die for the Grand Crusade. The force I sent to assault the Russian wizarding prison called the White Room managed to break out many prisoners and press them into your service. As it stands, we have gained over eighty new recruits through these efforts, most of decent, if not spectacular, magical ability. We have forced Gregorovitch to construct wands night and day for these newcomers, so they are armed and prepared."

Voldemort nodded. The Bulgarian wandmaker had been kidnapped in the early days of the war and forced to construct new or replacement wands for the Death Eaters, enabling them to maintain the tempo of their raids for longer. Wands often broke on the battlefield, and without Gregorovitch to help replace them, the Grand Crusade would have stalled long ago. "And what of the final Horcruxes? Have they been found yet?"

"Unfortunately not," Asmodeus replied, shaking his head. "Our agents have scoured Hogwarts for the remainder, but they remain elusive."

The Dark Lord snarled angrily. When he had constructed the Horcruxes back in his younger days, he had never expected that their creation might prove problematic in the future. Through the act of murder and Dark magic, he had managed to split his soul into pieces and secure them away so that he might never be completely destroyed. However, once he made his deal with the forces of Chaos, he was quick to see the flaws in those actions. The final, grand spell that would ensure his power and immortality until the end of time required that the caster had a completed soul, or at least a lone surviving fragment. Without it, the consequences would be disastrous at worst, ineffective at best, so the malicious wizard was hastily recovering and reabsorbing the Horcruxes wherever he found them.

Inwardly, Voldemort sneered, remembering his most recent acquisition; the diadem of Ravenclaw. Supposedly, the artefact had granted the Founder her incredible intelligence; it was a tale that few knew but most took for granted. It was all a lie; Ravenclaw had needed no such crutches in her pursuit for magical wisdom, relying upon only her innate capacity for knowledge and intellectual creativity. It was emblematic of the corruption and weakness that plagued the Wizarding World that the accomplishments of such a brilliant, strong-minded witch would be written off as the fancy of a magical artefact. Voldemort had taken great pleasure in devouring the soul fragment within the diadem before crushing it, erasing the stain from existence.

Just as the Dark Lord reached the door to his chambers, a wave of blinding pain struck him, sending him to his knees. His muscles began to spasm, and Voldemort cursed the weakness of his reconstructed body. "Are you well, my Lord?" Asmodeus asked, reaching to assist his master.

"Shut up," Voldemort hissed angrily, forcing his subordinate's hands away. "The flaw eats away at me, even now. The Chaos Stones must be found and the remaining Horcruxes located, and soon, my servant. Push forward the diggings and spare no effort or resource. The Stones must be found!"

The First Death Eater past his master, eyes widening. "Perhaps, my Lord, you need wait not a moment longer."

For nearly nine months, the forces of Voldemort had toiled at the diggings, carving through millennia worth of rock and geologic strata, expanding far beyond what the original Muggle miners had excavated. The Muggles, however, were not driven by the whips of a dark sorcerer, and their machines could not match the strength and fury of Voldemort's giant allies. At the front edge of the diggings, the rock began to crumble away before the startled eyes of the Death Eaters and the work crews, releasing monstrous plumes of dust. Tremors rumbled in the earth, and the diggers began to back away nervously, while even the ensnared Muggle slaves started to flee. The shocks reverberated throughout Hell Pit, sending the harpies screeching and cawing as they abandoned their nests, and the Death Eaters shuffled nervously.

A larger tremor rocked the cavern and a rain of stalactites began to descend on the Dark Lord's army, crushing Death Eaters and minions beneath the rock and smashing through the numerous structures they had erected. Voldemort's tower shook, sending magical artefacts to the ground, shattering them into a thousand pieces. Small chasms gaped wide and swallowed Death Eaters whole, while the largest stalactites impaled giants and sent them into furious death-spasms, causing yet more damage. It was chaos, with the dark wizards' spells providing little protection against the quakes, with dozens of assembled wizards and magical beasts dying in instants. The diggings collapsed completely and buried the workers alive, showering down upon them in a rain of stone and wood. Screams of pain echoing from every angle, and the taste of death permeated the stale air.

His army wounded and battered, many of his allies dead and his fortifications in ruins, Voldemort laughed. It was a mad, vicious sound, really, a dry, skeleton cackle that left an unpleasant cloud over the mind and froze the blood in the veins. Uncaring of the damage that surrounded him, the Dark Lord raised his arms towards the diggings, howling with twisted glee at the prize revealed during the tremors. Each over twenty feet tall, the mighty granite obelisks sat in a concentric circle and radiated power, the blood-red Mark of Chaos chiselled and painted on the face. The Chaos Stones, buried and hidden for over fifteen centuries, had at last been found, and the Dark Lord's plans were moving to their dreadful completion as a result. "Perfect. Perfect!" Voldemort crowed, turning back to his second-in-command. "Asmodeus, set the work crews to clearing up this rubble, and have them move the Stones into the centre of Hell Pit. Take as many men as you need to in order to see this done. I want this place to be ready for Kharaidon's ascension as soon as possible. I will study the dark texts needed, but you must ensure that this is done!"

Giving Asmodeus his leave, Voldemort felt certain now that his final goal was now in reach. The serpent Nagini slithered by his foot, and the Dark Lord eyed his companion, coveting the prize within. "Dear, faithful Nagini. Thank you for all your long years of service at my side, my pet. Unfortunately, your usefulness has ended, but you will live on in memory, content to know that you helped Lord Voldemort gain true immortality!" Dark magic exploded from his wand, and the creature once known as Thomas Marvolo Riddle smiled. Today had turned out to be a very good day.

_Next Chapter: Narcissa sits down with her son, and the forces of darkness muster…_

**A/N:** **And another chapter done. I've become a bit concerned that the chapters are becoming a bit too long, so I'd definitely like your input on this, as always. The rest of the story is mostly plotted out by now, but I'm willing to shorten each update a bit if I can reasonably do so. As always, your comments, reviews and constructive criticism are the milk that gives me life. I'll also be doing my best to post the next update as soon as time permits. **


	27. Blinded by the Dark

**Chapter 27: Blinded by the Dark**

Narcissa Malfoy awoke to the sound of shattering pottery echoing through the decadent halls of Malfoy Manor, shaking the patrician pureblood from her slumber. Slipping a velvet robe over her shoulders, Narcissa quietly made her way into the darkness of the Manor, her sharp green eyes peering into every lingering shadow. For her entire adult life, she had dwelt within the ancestral holdings of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, so the night was no impediment in finding her way. Chill seeped through her thin nightgown, and she shivered, worried by the clamour that had so rudely disrupted her sleep. Not for the first time, Narcissa cursed the death of her husband at the hands of Potter, advancing steadily despite her concerns.

It was not that she was helpless, in fact, it was quite the opposite. As a member of the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters, Narcissa knew her fair share of the Dark Arts and had the power and ruthlessness to use it effectively. Fortunately, she rarely exposed herself to the dangers of an actual duel, but her few raids were all successful ones, and she was confident she could deal with any opponent, save for Dumbledore, the First Death Eater Asmodeus or the Dark Lord. _Of course, if the rumours about Potter and his skills are true, then that list should be amended_.

Nor was it that she hated her recently-departed husband either. Her marriage with Lucius had been arranged by their respective families, but still maintained some small degree of contentment and affection. He had given her security, a child and a means of striking back at the filthy Mudblood scum that polluted wizarding society. They had done their duty as loyal purebloods by assisting in the perpetuation of their race, giving the Dark Lord another soldier to continue the Grand Crusade. Still, Lucius had been a fool by the end and it had cost him. He had thought with his libido instead of his brains, and Potter had killed him for it, much to her sorrow. Like all of the major pureblood noblemen, her husband had enjoyed his share of whores and mistresses even while they were married, and even in the midst of combat he could not change his ways. _Men_, Narcissa sneered inwardly, the soft patter of her footsteps descending down to the first floor. Still, Lucius had been kind to her, kinder than most pureblood men were to their wives and she had grieved for him. She did not regret the seventeen years of marriage they shared, and her bed seemed empty in the three and a half months since his death.

Still, perhaps it was time to move on. Even approaching forty, Narcissa was a beauty, well-sought after by the other pureblood families and the cultural elite. There was no end of desirable young men willing to spend an evening with the society queen of Wizarding England, enabling her to pick and choose at her leisure. Unconsciously, Narcissa felt herself wetting her lips in anticipation. Malfoy women had taken jigs before, hadn't they? And it was better to find sexual satisfaction in the arms of an illicit lover than engage in the perversions favoured by the other Death Eaters. She took a moment to pity the poor wretches enslaved in the Harem of Hell Pit, then brushed the thought from her mind. _Who could be here at this late hour?_ Since Lucius died, she had lived alone in the Manor with only a few servants. Draco had taken the Dark Mark immediately upon his return and had been assigned to the Hell Pit without even bothering to drop off his clothes. _An assassin? Have the Aurors or the Shadow Hunters found me out?_

Another crash assaulted her ears, followed by a wailing cry, both resonating from the old wine cellar. Drawing her wand, Narcissa ventured into the dank basement, opening the door with a swift tug. A single word caused bracket-mounted crystals to burn bright, and the noblewoman let out a sigh of disgust at the now-revealed intruder. "Draco, my darling son, must you come crawling into the Manor at the dead of night like a thief? Had I known you were on your way here, I would have unbarred the front door."

Draco Malfoy turned to face his mother, a murderous glint in his eyes. The spoiled Slytherin's robes were tattered and bloodstained, a result of the punishments he'd received at Voldemort's hands. His ghostly blonde hair, normally well-tended and groomed, was dishevelled, giving the boy the appearance of a scarecrow. He was gaunt and ragged, a far cry from the self-absorbed and haughty child she had reprimanded for poor academic performance. Draco had tossed a half dozen wineglasses and old pottery mugs against the wall, the broken shards littering the floor like a minefield. Unconsciously, Narcissa took a step back, horrified at the transformations that had overtaken her son. _Has losing to Longbottom really affected him so much?_ she asked herself, tightening her robes around her. "Come, son, let's get you out of this chilly old cellar," she placated the junior Death Eater, extending a hand in welcome. "I'll have the servants cook you a quick meal."

"Wine will suit me just fine," Draco snapped, slapping away his mother's hand. Ignoring her cold, rejected stare, the new Lord Malfoy stormed up the stairs, burning with hate as he went. "The Dark Lord expects me back in Hell Pit before the sun rises; I have simply come to gather a few clothes and artefacts before I leave."

"A pity," Narcissa said, keeping her tone neutral. In truth, she was glad her idiot son's visit would be a limited endeavour. Narcissa had done her best to be a good mother and raise Draco properly, but his father's influence and his innate cowardice had eroded any control she had over the boy. Upon Lucius' death, Draco had become the new Lord Malfoy as dictated by ancient pureblood laws, and the humiliation of her son governing the household was more than she could stand. She was his _mother_, for Grindelwald's sake, yet he treated her as he might a servant, with little regard for the love and attention she had showered upon him as a youngster. The recent crackdown by the Ministry and Fudge's arrest on corruption charges had left the Malfoy family fortunes open to seizure, and what little hard gold they had left access to was controlled by Draco, a frivolous spender at the best of times. Even worse was the fact that Draco's ambition and cruelty were matched only by his cowardice, and he had little spine with which to implement his grandiose designs. He spoke of destroying Potter and taking his lover for himself, but Narcissa knew he would fold like an old Flobberworm if the two faced in battle. "I am certain you will bring glory to our family just as your father did." Another lie, albeit spoken with a honey-sweet tongue.

Draco's voice lay seeded with frustration as he spoke. "The Dark Lord has denied me a place in the Inner Circle, despite the sacrifices our family has made for the cause. He has demoted me into the ranks like some commoner, while weaker wizards gain positions of leadership and glory!"

"Your failure in Diagon Alley was but a temporary setback, my son," Narcissa tried to console him, stroking the boy's bloodied cheeks with a lily-white hand. "Honour can be regained swiftly in an engagement. Take heart, Draco. The next battle may win you the Dark Lord's favour once more."

"It cannot come soon enough," Draco whined piteously, pouring himself a decanter of wine which he downed in moments. "All I want is to avenge my father's death, but the Dark Lord will not give me another chance. Hell Pit is rotten, the food is poor and the damn noise of the digging never ceases. The Dark Lord promised us endless comforts and glories, yet I wallow through the muck like a peasant!"

Narcissa sighed in disappointment. "Did you really believe that life as a Death Eater would be a secure, pampered affair?" she demanded of her son, taking a seat on one of the couches scattered throughout the first-floor den. "Sacrifices must be made in the name of the Grand Crusade, and there will be comforts enough once our work is done. You're a Death Eater now, Draco, one of the blessed warriors of the Dark Lord. It's time you started acting like it. I can no longer shield you from the world's ugliness as I would when you were a child." _He still is_, she mused bitterly, the sudden disloyal thought leaping from her mind. _Damn Voldemort for forcing me to give away my only child._ Instantly, Narcissa forced the thought aside, crushing it deep down into her soul. The Dark Lord had many spies in his service, some able to sniff out doubt and hesitation as a hunting hound might uncover a fugitive's scent. Even a talented Occlumens like Narcissa was at risk.

Draco looked at her with harsh, maddened eyes. "It's easy for you to say when you're living in the Manor, _Mother_." His lips turned up in a hideous snarl, and Narcissa felt a brief wave of fear pass over her. _By Grindelwald, what has happened to my son?_

It was with some trepidation that Narcissa replied, "Unfortunately, my son, I won't be staying within in the Manor for long. Now that the Ministry has frozen our assets, it's only a matter of time before they take a more physical approach in investigating the house. I've been assigned to one of our safehouses in Devonshire to assist your aunt Bellatrix." Inwardly, the patrician pureblood railed against the order, a sudden, blinding rage that battered against its cage like a wild beast of some measure. Since Bellatrix's escape from Azkaban in the previous year, Narcissa had little contact with the Dark Lord's war dog, and for good reason. Her sister had only descended into an even deeper madness thanks to her lengthy and torturous imprisonment, and her sadism and cruelty magnified by several orders. For Bellatrix, no price was too much in the name of the Grand Crusade, and her domineering gaze fell upon her sister during their brief encounters, criticizing her for a supposed lack of zeal for the cause. Narcissa knew that her demented sister's lack of children was a constant defeat in her eyes, and she often questioned why the noblewoman had not given birth to several more offspring to serve the Dark Lord.

Amongst the purebloods of England, it was demanded that a woman bear numerous children for their husbands as a means of boosting their genetic stock and creating new warriors for their people. Children were not conceived out of love, but of duty to uphold tradition and ensure the race's survival. Every new pureblood born meant another soldier in the struggle against the Mudbloods and the degeneration of wizarding society. For her part, Narcissa hadn't the stomach to become a complete broodmare for the conflict. One child was enough, and she had tried to make sure that the child in question would grow to be a worthy one. _So much for that idea._ Lucius in particular had supported this endeavour, hoping for the perfect heir to continue the Malfoy line rather than suffering with a brood of competing brats. He could always satisfy his urges on a servant girl, after all, or on some young Muggle he caught out late at night. While no true servant of Voldemort would consider raising a family with the Muggles, abusing them for their sexual utility was perfectly acceptable. For the followers of the Dark Lord, sex was an expression of domination and control, lacking any true emotional connection or even a sense of physical gratification from the act itself. Pleasure came solely through the disempowerment of others, the climax replaced by the sense of control over another human being. It was a trait that her late husband and Bellatrix displayed in its purest form, desiring sexual domination above all else.

All told, Narcissa was worried about moving in with her sister once again. It was a small consolation that they would rarely see each other with Bellatrix stationed primarily in Hell Pit alongside the rest of the Inner Circle, but the move was still galling. Draco seemed hellbent on following his aunt's destructive path, and the inner mother in her tensed up at the thought. What had she done, offering up her only child to these monsters like a sacrifice? The patrician pureblood didn't even attempt to quash this treasonous feeling. She hated the Muggles and their poisonous ilk, how they had led a great culture towards debasement and degeneration, potentially even extinction. Yet Draco was just a boy, despite his protests to the contrary. Why should he be forced to fight in a war that could potentially kill him at such a young age? It was the folly of masculinity to believe that battle could shape men from boys, when it truth it conceived monsters from the flesh of men. A more hideous birth never existed. Oh, how she wanted to scoop up her child in her arms and keep the world's darkness at bay! Yet it was too late now, her son had been lured by the siren's song of power and would not turn from the rocks. He had undoubtedly engaged in numerous acts of torture or murder already as a Death Eater and a Death Eater's scion, and showed no intention of stopping now.

Narcissa's thoughts were a panicked blur, lower lip trembling, beautiful green eyes welling up with tears. She could flee to the family's summer home in the south of France, leave everything but the clothes on her back behind her, desert from the Dark Lord's service before the dawn revealed her treachery. The patrician pureblood had long cultivated a harvest of contacts in the event a Ministry victory forced her to escape from the country, a host of former school companions, ex-lovers and other Dark sympathizers capable of smuggling her out of harm's way. Would they assist her if she tried to abandon the Death Eaters? More than likely the elegant blonde pureblood would find herself thrown into the torture chambers of Hell Pit and facing punishment at the hands of Voldemort, Asmodeus and Bellatrix, perhaps even her own son. Absentmindedly, Narcissa gently traced the brand of the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of her left wrist. A tiny sob escaped from her throat, the classical, statuesque mask she had worn for years beginning to crumble away. No, the Dark Lord would find her, even if she ran to the most far-flung regions of the world, whether dense, lively city or remote, tangled wilderness. There was no escape, even for a determined and prepared fugitive. _Stop this right now!_ she told herself, trying to regain her composure. The decision had already been made and she could not renege, her fate was bound to the Death Eaters until death. _Why should you have to worry?_ the thought came. _You don't have any reason to doubt the Grand Crusade. The Dark Lord is winning and his plans are coming to fulfillment. _Visions of the paradise Voldemort would create upon the ruins of the old world flashed through her mind, and even Narcissa's maternal concern shrank in the face of this rather tempting prospect. _A world for the pure, for the powerful! A new Eden for our kind! A place where Draco may raise his children in peace! Don't you want that for your son? You had your chance to be squeamish before you took the Mark, now you have duties to perform. _

"We must all sacrifice for the cause, my son," Narcissa heard herself saying, her lily-white hands squeezing Draco's shoulders. "Do not focus on these failures, for they will never be repeated, I am certain of that. The opportunities for glory are endless amongst the legions of the Dark Lord. You'll have your chance for vengeance, I promise."

_And how in Grindelwald's name am I going to get him out of this?_

* * *

Like most House Elves, the kitchen staff of Hogwarts interacted little with their human masters, working behind the scenes to keep the school running smoothly. With over six hundred students and staff to feed and look after, the subservient little creatures had enough work to do, and few students would deign to visit them even if their existence became a public matter. So it was a great shock for the house elves to see a young couple in the kitchens late at night, asking for two bowls of chocolate pudding, and being so polite about it too! Words of kindness from the two spellcasters drove some of the kitchen staff to tears, and it took little convincing for them to prepared the desired snack, offering the two the use of the secondary pantry to give them some privacy. The house elves were well aware of human mating rituals, and knew that interrupting a private moment would displease them greatly, and they lived to pleased humans. 

"I'm glad the House Elves made the pudding from scratch, and not from the instant packages," Luna Lovegood declared in relief, spooning another rich morsel. "Now, we'll avoid an infestation of Tizzyflacks."

"Tizzyflacks?" Neville Longbottom asked, trying to keep the mirth from his voice.

Luna nodded. "They're a small larval creature that tries to infest wizards. If they get into your body, they bring about strange mood swings and changes in behaviour. Daddy wrote an article about it in the _Quibbler_, after he had seen a man in Indonesia suffer from a Tizzyflack outbreak."

"And they show up in pudding?"

"Only the caramel and vanilla kinds," Luna explained. "And even then, only in the Muggle instant varieties. Muggles are a bit weird like that, you know. They eat all of their food out of tin cans, and spend hours each day watching some crazy moving pictures in a plastic box. It's all very puzzling."

"I'll bet," Neville said, amused by the idea that his girlfriend would deem anyone else 'strange'. Other men might be put off by, or be disdainful of, Luna's unusual beliefs and imaginary creatures, but Neville didn't mind it at all. It was part of what made Luna the person she was, and the Gryffindor boy adored and respected her for every aspect of her personality. It was little eccentricities like these that made Luna all the more attractive. "Muggles aren't all bad, though. They have some very neat technology, and the mix of cultures is pretty interesting too. Are you taking Muggle Studies this year?"

Luna shook her head. "No, my course load is full already. And besides, there's so much wonder to explore in the Wizarding World, I doubt I'll ever have the opportunity to seriously examine the Muggle one. Eat your pudding."

Neville looked down to see that his pudding was still only half-finished. "Uh, yeah. Right." Moving to change the subject, he asked, "So, how was class today? Divination, right?"

"That's right," Luna replied, twiddling with her spoon, almost lost in thought. "Ginny's been having a bit of trouble with the coursework, so I've been tutoring her a bit. She was quite fearsome in our fight against the Brotherhood, apparently. It would have been wonderful to see her in action."

"It sure was," Neville exclaimed, letting her head rest upon his shoulder in a comforting fashion. "Thought you turned out to be the heroine of the hour, Luna, so I wouldn't sell yourself short. To be honest with you, all throughout the battle, I was really worried about you. Harry nearly had to restrain me to keep me from running off. I guess I should've had more faith in you, Luna."

The Ravenclaw girl smiled. "I would be worried if you hadn't been concerned for me, Neville, even a little bit. But thanks for being so honest with me. I like the fact that you're humble enough to admit a flaw in your thinking." She pursed her lips, turning her pretty silver eyes up to meet him. "It was very sweet of you, regardless."

"You're my girlfriend," Neville replied. "How could I do less?"

Luna tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling bashfully. "You took Ginny to the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, right? How was that?"

The boy shrugged, trying to think back to his clumsiness two years ago. "We just didn't connect, I guess. And I kept stepping on her toes, and she was more interested in Harry than me, so we didn't really get into an actual relationship." Neville laughed morosely. "Damn, I really was pathetic. Why do you ask?"

"So I'm the first girl you've ever really dated?"

"First, and only," Neville answered, kissing her on the cheek. "What about you, if I can ask? Am I your first as well?"

Luna nodded. "To be honest, I never really felt that dating was important until I met you. Most boys just either ignored me or called me names, and I was happy to be on my own. But you're much different. You're sweet and gentle, and I like that. I feel very happy and safe with you, and I know you would not take advantage either."

Neville smiled. "Glad to hear I fit the bill then," he said, inciting a giggle from the slender Ravenclaw. "It's good to know that I can make you happy, Luna. Sometimes, you know, I just lose confidence in myself and think that I'm not good enough for you. You're a wonderful girl, and I promise I'll always do my best to make you happy. Speaking of which, I have your birthday present here as well."

The girl's eyes glimmered in the light as Neville rummaged through his pockets to find a black velvet box, tied with a blue ribbon. "Sorry about being so late with this," the Gryffindor said, looking somewhat displeased with himself, "but there were some delays in the shipping. You'd be amazed at how many people were asking for these."

"Good things come to those who wait, dear Neville," Luna replied, drawing the string with one smooth motion, letting out an audible gasp of surprise as she opened the box. "Tickets to the Magical London Opera…Neville, these must have cost a small fortune!"

"I saved up what I earned over the summer, and it was enough," said Neville, placing the two tickets in the palm of her hand. "And I wanted to give you something a bit more original than flowers or chocolate, and I know you appreciate cultural stuff besides Quidditch, so it seemed like the right choice."

Luna was still for a moment. "This is very generous of you, but I don't think I can accept. I'd be taking advantage of you, Neville, and I could settle for much, much less."

"Then take advantage of me," Neville said. "I really like you, Luna, and you deserve the tickets more than anyone I know. You shouldn't have to settle for less, and I certainly won't give you anything less than you deserve."

"Neville…"

"Take the tickets, Luna. I love you, and I won't see you miss out on a great opportunity because of me. Please, take the tickets. It's a token of my esteem for you, my…love. I just want you to be happy."

"Neville…" Now the girl was crying, her heart smelted down and reforged by Neville's words, left burnished and glittering like polished brass. _Love_, she whispered with a ghost's voice, kneeling down to meet him, silver eyes burning with the light of moon and stars. "If I did take them, you'd have to come with me. And you'd have to endure several hours of German operas, in an environment where taking in a bit of fresh air is considered rude and disruptive."

Caressing her cheek softly, Neville drew her in close, letting her hands fall upon his chest. "Luna, I would fight through an army to please you, so I'm sure I could endure a few hours of opera if that would make you happy."

"My knight in shining armour," the slender Ravenclaw whispered, gracing his lips with a gentle kiss. Neville groaned with excitement, spurring the girl onwards. "I'll have to introduce you to Daddy one day. I think he'd really like you, and if we're going to court each other properly, then I'd like his approval before we do so."

"So we're not courting now?" Neville asked, studying her face intently. "Then what are we doing?"

Luna smiled, squeezing Neville's thigh. "We're in love, my dear Neville, pure and unconcerned with outside affairs. In time, we will need to court properly if Daddy is to accept our relationship, but for the meantime, let's just be in love. Nothing more, nothing less…"

Neville leaned in to kiss her, stopped short by a slim finger placed against his lips. "Do you truly love me, Neville? Would you be willing to endure temptation, and grief, and pain, all for my sake? Could you keep yourself chaste if I demanded it of you, and could you see yourself becoming a husband after we graduate? Would you love me if I became old and worn, or sick, or helpless? I need to know that you would love me even in the worst of conditions, and with unjust burdens placed upon you. Please, tell me that your feelings would not change with the seasons and the tides."

"Yes, I do love you," Neville responded, burying his face in her delicate curls, whispering tenderly into the curve of her ear. "I do not know about marriage just yet, Luna, but my feelings for you are strong, and will not disappear with time. And yes, one day, I would be honoured to be called 'husband', and I would never seek to force myself upon you if you don't want it." He frowned, feeling somewhat distrusted by her questioning. "Do you trust me, Luna?"

"I do, to the death if need be," Luna explained, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her pure white nightgown, extending just below the knee. "I just needed to be absolutely certain, before I could take the next step with you…"

They kissed then, slowly, lovingly, their hands tantalizingly caressing trembling skin and journeying through curls of hair. Neville moaned in his mouth as her breasts lightly brushed up against him, sending pleasurable warmth flooding through his veins. Dainty hands motioned towards his groin, and the Gryffindor leapt to attention inside his pyjamas. "Luna!" he gasped as she stroked his growing hardness through the two layers of cloth. Further comments were muffled with a sortie of gentle kisses that left the taste of mangos lingering on his lips, teasing him and leaving him anxious for more. Luna continued her ministrations, moving down the boy's jawline to his throat and collarbone, while she dexterously untied the string of his pyjama bottoms, loosening the pressure considerably. "Luna…"

"Be patient, my dear Neville," Luna whispered sibilantly, slipping a hand beneath his shirt. In the dim light of the pantry, the fifth-year Ravenclaw was compellingly lovely in her thin, sheer nightgown, the fine cotton highlighting the curves of her slender form. "We have the night to ourselves, and no one will dare intrude. Relax. Breathe. We have time."

Neville's response was to crush his lips against hers, finally deepening the kisses he had long desired. Letting Luna direct his hand, he let his fingers dance over the girl's neckline, tracing her breasts, tugging anxiously at the straps supporting the gown. The two lovers continued like this for a time, as tender as kittens, letting the currents of affection flow through them, empowering them, making them feel whole and complete. Neville closed his eyes, murmuring softly under Luna's kisses, the sensation bordering euphoria. "You're so beautiful, Luna," he said, nestling his head into the fine curves of her shoulder, breathing lightly on her neck, receiving an aroused gasp of surprise for his efforts. The Gryffindor felt slender fingers caress his groin, and he lay back, surrendering to her touch. "I guess it's true, isn't it?"

"What is?"

The Gryffindor smiled. "That Ravenclaws make the best lovers." He paused for a moment, his face turning red with mortification, fearing that he might have offended her. "Well, at least that's what Seamus says, though I'm certain he wouldn't know, not that he's dated anyone from Ravenclaw, and besides it's mighty rude to engage in stereotyping, and-"

Luna covered the boy's lips with her own, quickly shutting him up. "Is that why you care for me, Neville? Because I'm of a certain House?"

"I care for you because you are a beautiful, kind young woman," Neville responded. "You being in Ravenclaw, it's not a fetish, I-"

"Of course," Luna responded. "I know you well enough to understand that you're much more mature than that, one of your better qualities. And I have to admit, I've always found Gryffindors to be quite fascinating myself."

"Really?"

Luna nodded. "But of course. In particular, I'm been really interested in this one boy, who is very bright and kind and gentle, and for some reason I will never be able to understand, often feels like the world is against him. We love you, Neville; Harry, Cho, Hermione, Ginny, all of us. _I_ love you, and I promise that I'm not going to leave you. Ever. Okay?"

"Luna…"

The girl hushed him, straddling Neville and pinning him down beneath her slender frame. "No more words, brave Neville. No more doubt or hesitation or uncertainty. Just us." Their lips met once again, and Neville took her words to heart. They were in love, and right now that was all he needed.

* * *

The journey by Portkey had only taken a few minutes, not including the layovers at the various Keyhubs, before the Spirit Walker Avalon returned home. Teleported to the Vancouver Keyhub, the highly-trained Legimens breathed deeply of the moist winter air. _I am home_, she told herself, disembarking alongside the other passengers, all having used the intercontinental Portkeys to speed their way to their destination. Throwing up her hood, Avalon walked the streets and byways of Wizarding Vancouver, yellow eyes gazing fondly at the city of her birth. The streets were abuzz with life; merchants selling their wares, students discussing politics and philosophy at the numerous coffee shops, older witches debating theories of magical physics, young couples conversing shyly in the parks. Street mages entertained travelling children for a small sum of gold, while the sound of a dozen magical and Muggle languages rolled and mixed into an orchestra of conversation. The Wizarding districts of Vancouver, referred to by the locals as the Way of Dreams, had remained unmolested by the march of Voldemort's armies. With the Dark Lord concentrating his forces in England, and with Wizarding Canada defended by the combined strength of the Peacekeepers and the Shadow Hunters, the evil had not made its presence felt strongly here. Still, Avalon could detect an undercurrent of anxiety throughout the populace, made the more poignant by the news of continued fighting in Europe. 

Walking through the Way of Dreams with ghostly silence, Avalon pondered the missive that had brought her here. Three days earlier, she had been expressly summoned by the Council of Gaea to deliver a report on the war's progress, as well as contribute to the strategic planning. It was an assignment that Avalon had greatly accepted. Her Occlumency training with Harry was reaching its limits; there was little in the way of new techniques she could teach him without bringing him into the Spirit Walkers, and he just needed practice now, something he could provide independent of her. Besides, as much as she loved England, it would be good to work in the company of her own kind for a while. She missed the stirring discords of the Crystal Tower, the comforting thoughts of her fellow Spirit Walkers in their psychic gestalt. It would be good to get away from the hostile stares of the Aurors, decrying her unusual appearance with every glance and thought. And then there was Daelin…

The Spirit Walker paused in her musings, feeling warmth at her breast when she thought of the mighty Shadow Hunter. Daelin Stormfury was perhaps the most complex individual she had ever met, capable of great honour and great violence in equal measure, driven by duty and rage. Even her surface-level Occlumancy had not been able to truly pierce the mysteries surrounding him. He was a man of peace, a lifetime ago, before some great tragedy took it away and thrust him on the path of the Shadow Hunters. At times he could be respectful and friendly to her, while at other times, he found himself lost in his pride and anger. Their relationship had seen its peaks and its valleys, and while Stormfury often wrestled with his own feelings, there remained a current of respect and care between the two. It was not uncommon for Elementalists of different castes to share feelings for one another, or even become lovers, but such an eventual destination remained out of reach for them; duty and their competing roles presented barriers. She cared for him, and it had been the first time in a long while that she was capable of saying that. Perhaps when she returned to England she would find the opportunity to express herself to the Shadow Hunter. For the moment though, she was content to focus on her duty.

A cadre of Peacekeepers, the local equivalent to the British Aurors, passed down the street, their leader giving Avalon a friendly bow. Relations between the secular magical government and the followers of Gaea were hospitable, the two forces collaborating to defend against specific threats, but otherwise maintaining their respective fields of authority. The Council of Gaea had no interest in ruling the country, content with their personal domain around the Temple, while the Canadian Department of Magic was used to accommodating various minorities living within its geographic jurisdiction, like the high elves and minotaur. All around her, the buildings seemed to dance and flirt with one another, altered by the magic imbuing this place. Even compared to Diagon Alley, the Way of Dreams pulsed to its own rhythm, its own tempo of life, and Avalon let it envelop and permeate her mind like a warm blanket, a pleasant sensation. The country's magical citizens had pushed the boundaries of magical experimentation further than the English had the courage to do, and it had paid for itself many times over. Not for the first time, Avalon deplored the wretched state of magical research in Wizarding England, and wished she could do something to change it. Perhaps when the war was over, the growing links between the British Ministry and the Council of Gaea would help to solve this problem, but as with her feelings with Daelin, it would have to wait until then.

Turning into a nearby forum, Avalon bowed reverently to her master and tutor. "Greetings, Seros, Grand Master of the Spirit Walkers. My thanks for welcoming me home."

The wizened Seros smiled gently at his pupil, mirroring her greeting. "And greetings to you, Avalon of the Spirit Walkers. I trust that your journey was not overly taxing?"

Avalon shook her head, sensing her teacher's admiration and happiness. Their psychic abilities began to form a feedback loop, the emotions of one reflecting on the other, escalating higher and higher, leaving them somewhat giddy despite their mental discipline. Quickly, Avalon moved to suppress her passive Legilimency, minimizing, though not eliminating, its effect. "Travel by Portkey is often arduous, but I endured it," she replied, walking side-by-side with the man who had rescued her from the darkness of her abusive father. "And I must admit that returning to my home has proved refreshing. Shall we head to the Temple now, master?"

Seros nodded, an archaic and primitive gesture that the elder telepath had never really let go of, even when his powers made such a mannerism unnecessary. "The Gate lies prepared, Avalon. It will be good to feel the serenity of the Temple again after all this time, no?"

"No, it shall feel great," Avalon answered, tightening her cloak around her. "What news of the Council, and the rest of the Spirit Walkers?"

As the two Legimens quickly skirted through the deep crowds, Seros explained the situation to her, yellow eyes darting curiously at every new object or person that crossed their path. "Several nights ago, our order sensed a great disturbance in the future, one that affected several members and left them shaken. While the nature of the threat was not entirely specific, we can judge with some accuracy that it shall emerge as a result of the Dark Gods and their influence."

Seros' voice was filled with disgust at the mention of their ancient enemies, and Avalon certainly couldn't blame him. "Multiple Spirit Walkers experienced the same vision? It must be rather imminent then. Did they manage to uncover a timeframe?"

"They managed to pin it down within the next three months, but it is highly uncertain," Seros cautioned her. "Both Circles of the Council are becoming concerned, particularly as the war continues in England and Voldemort's ultimate goal remains uncertain. We know that he has struck a bargain with the forces of Chaos, and seeks to exterminate his enemies, but little more than that. If Voldemort is to be defeated, then we must understand his final objective. Where will this Grand Crusade take him? Under what conditions will he be successful? Will he seek magical might or temporal? That's why I requested your return, Avalon. A first-hand account of the situation before the Council will prove very useful, and your own perspective might shed some light on these things. Afterwards, perhaps you can assist the rest of the Spirit Walkers in uncovering the mystery behind this vision."

"I discussed my return with Dumbledore before I left, so they understand my absence," Avalon explained. "I certainly won't be torn between two duties at any rate."

The Grand Master of the Spirit Walkers gave a small sigh of weariness. "Do you believe we can trust this Dumbledore, Avalon? Have you determined anything from him?"

Avalon pursed her lips thoughtfully before replying. "Dumbledore certainly has his secrets, and his Occlumancy abilities are strong enough to keep me from committing a subtle intrusion. Doubtless there is much he keeps from both our people and his own, even the Champions themselves. Still, I believe that he is acting out of honour regardless, and he desires both a victory over the darkness and a lasting peace. While some questions still need to be answered, we can trust the Headmaster to work with us in good faith."

The two Spirit Walkers approached the Temple Gate, and placed their hands upon the great emerald sealed into the wall. Crystalline, fibrous roots burst from the surface of the gem, probing and examining their hands, determining that they were loyal towards the Temple and sought it no harm. The wall began to decompose, melting away like dew under the summer sun, revealing the overgrown path beyond. Long ago, the Shadow Hunters had hidden these Gates at various points across the country, accessible only by those who loved the Earthmother and served her in the mortal realm, bringing them to the doorstep of the Temple itself. The location of this edifice was a carefully guarded secret, Unplottable and defended with anti-Apparation wards, and men had died at the blades of the Shadow Hunters for uttering a word regarding its hiding place. Making sure the two had not been followed by outsiders, Avalon and Seros swiftly entered, speaking the words of binding to seal the doorway behind them.

Busy streets and buildings of stone gave way to verdant hills and abundant forests, the smell of flowers overpowering in their fragrance. Even sweeter was the magic that surrounded them, a wellspring of power that fed every blade of grass and every oak and pine that drew deep into the earth. The Temple itself stood before them, high walls covered with tangled vines, surrounding the spires and gardens of the main complex. At the exact centre of the site stood the Crystal Tower, arcane sanctum of the Spirit Walkers, the marble and quartz of the building standing in diametric opposition to the leafy fronds and living stone of the primary Temple. Directly beneath the Crystal Tower sat the Chamber of Life, holiest of holies for the Elementalists, carved deep into the rock and stone, empowered by the magic that permeated this place. The Temple of Gaea was one of the most powerful bastions in the Wizarding World, second only to Hogwarts itself. No hostile army had ever penetrated into the central complex since its creation, either utterly destroyed by the might of the Shadow Hunters or crushed by the defences of the living edifice. To scale the walls meant retaliation by the thick vines. To attempt to breach them caused the defences to bleed fire from the wounds. So long as brave souls and strong arms guarded the ramparts of the Temple, no force, human or otherwise, would conquer Gaea's holy place.

As the two Spirit Walkers ascended up the broad stone steps leading to the Temple, they were met with an honour guard of high elven warriors clad in burnished, glittering plate, and bearing long spears and shields that burned bright with the light of the sun. Evelas was leading them, greeting the humans warmly. "It is good to welcome you home, Seros, and you, Avalon. It is good that you have returned from England so swiftly. The Council is in dire need of your voice enlightening it, and I fear that the recent incident with the Spirit Walkers has only increased the demand for good intelligence."

The petite Spirit Walker bowed before the senior Elementalist. "My thanks, Lady Evelas, you do us great honour by escorting us to the Temple grounds. It is a welcome sight indeed to watch the forces of the Asur prepared for battle."

"News of the Spirit Walkers' vision reached us quickly, and our forces have begun to mobilize in preparation," Evelas explained. "Bloodstone has also begun to marshal the minotaur tribes, so we can expect to muster a sizeable force for the trials ahead. This unit was stationed at the Temple to provide additional security, particularly with the beastmen tribes so active lately."

Avalon raised a brow at this statement. "Any connection with the events occurring in Europe?"

"It is quite possible," the high elf sorceress replied. "The dread powers of Chaos can project their influence over great gulfs of space and time, and doubtless their mortal servitors feel their whips more keenly as of late. This is proving to be a major cause for concern in the Council's eyes. We cannot move to defend England if our own lands are in peril, and for all the defences of the Temple, leaving our sacred places undefended would be a mistake."

"Perhaps," Avalon replied. "But we must not mistake caution for good sense, Lady Evelas. If the war is to be won, it is to be won in England, taking the fight to the foe. During the last war, we chose to remain isolated, neutral in the conflict, and many that should have lived instead died without our intervention. If the vision is of any indication, then our full strength may be needed in our old homeland soon enough. We cannot simply wait for the Opener of the Way to come and deliver us from the evils of the world. We must actively strive against them, just as we always have."

Evelas smiled, pleased by what she was hearing. "Well spoken, Spirit Walker. If only the rest of the Council could see reason, then we might be able to push this forward." The high elf paused, watching the young woman's expression closely as if searching for an answer. "It is good to see that your faith in Gaea remains strong, even after all of this time away from the Temple. Wizarding England is certainly not a receptive environment for our teachings, after all."

"The human mind can endure the loss of home, Evelas, provided that the will is strong, and if my faith in Gaea was not able to bear a separation from my kin, then I would not have taken the path of the Spirit Walker to begin with."

The high elf nodded. "Excellent. Needless to say, some of the Council are becoming convinced that the time of Gaea's return is upon us, that the arrival of the Opener of the Way is imminent. They are a minority, to be certain, but the news of Voldemort's alliance with Chaos and the growing powers of the Daemonslayer seem to be emboldening them. It's been decades since such a resurgence of fanaticism was felt amongst the Council, and I'd rather wish that it was stamped out as soon as possible. Anyways, we must continue with our patrol. I look forward to seeing you both at the Council meeting this evening."

Bowing to the elder sorceress, the two Spirit Walkers observed the company pass for a moment before resuming their journey up the hill. Three times, they stopped to greet other Elementalists; assorted Shadow Hunters on two occasions, and the third a band of Acolytes on their afternoon run. Avalon gratefully gave the Shadow Hunter trainees a blessing, remembering when she was young and without hope, and how the Temple had taken her in as a loving parent might, re-forging her into something new, something different. The men and women of the Cult of Gaea had sheltered and fed her when no one else would, and she had resolved to pay back their kindness by serving amongst them as a Spirit Walker. It was like that for most of them. When the world in all its cruelty spat them out, Gaea's mortal followers were there to show them the path. It was a path beset by hardship and loss, but it was a noble one, nonetheless, giving one a chance to do some real good in the world. Avalon had long accepted the fact that her powers demanded sacrifice, namely that of her long-term life expectancy, but it was a small cost to bear for the benefits she could achieve with the magic.

"I must leave you now," Seros told her, as the two Spirit Walkers entered the primary Temple, the beautiful gardens and libraries greeting their sight. "I unfortunately have a great deal of business to take care of in the Council before the meeting begins this evening. Will you be able to join us?"

"But of course, Master Seros," Avalon replied. "That is why you called me, so I shall obey. First though, I'd like to confer with the rest of the Spirit Walkers about this vision. With the stakes this high, I cannot go before the Council unprepared."

Seros nodded his head in agreement. "Very well then, Avalon. The Council gathers within the Chamber of Life in four hours. I hope that will be enough time for you to ready yourself."

"It will have to be. I'll head into the Crystal Tower, and start my research immediately." Avalon bowed to her master a final time before she took her leave. She liked Seros, for the old Spirit Walker had been kind to her, and most supportive of her efforts to be the best mage she could. They both knew that his time and strength were waning with each passing day, and it was no great secret that he was considering Avalon to take the position of Grand Master upon his passing. Being a master Legilimens meant that they could not help but be aware of the political manoeuvres of others, but the rest of the order appeared to accept such a decision. The Spirit Walker had little taste for politics, thus didn't bother to pry further. For now, she was content just be a Spirit Walker, to travel the path of the mind, to see what lay beyond the temporal vision of mortal men, to witness the face of Gaea ever time she partook of the warpstone. It was all she had, but it was enough.

In no time at all, Avalon stood before the Crystal Tower, the entrance barred and bolted behind a monstrous circular door, another probing emerald sealed within glittering quartz. Placing her hand upon the door, the Spirit Walker let the gem do its work, determining her identity much as the Temple Gate would. She waited, listening intently for the rumble of the massive bolts and sealbeams drawing back, unlocking the Tower, allowing her passage to her home. The Tower was composed of natural rock and powerful enchantments, both preventing outsiders from forcing their way into the structure, as well as ensuring that the telepathic conversations and feelings of the Spirit Walkers did not escape, keeping the other denizens of the Temple from going mad.

Something was wrong. The entry sequence seemed too slow, too stubborn, and a dark chill fell upon Avalon. The Tower was part of the Temple itself, and the Temple seemed…scared? Frightened? Concerned for the well-being of its children? Like any good mother, the Temple became nervous when danger neared, and the Spirit Walker felt herself fighting a rising tide of panic as the door slowly groaned open, revealing the darkened tower within.

Cautiously making her way into the Tower, Avalon immediately knew that something had happened. The beautiful crystal lights of the spire were designed to run perpetually, and could not be shattered or broken by most conventional or magical means. For the purposes of rest, sections of the Tower would be darkened to allow for Spirit Walkers to sleep, but _all_ of the lights going dark was simply inconceivable. It was quiet as well, much too quiet even with her psychic abilities. She should have _heard_ her companions by now, never mind seen them…

Then she saw the bodies. Dressed in white robes, now drenched with blood, lay the other Spirit Walkers, dozens of bodies sprawled out on the floor, expressions of gruesome pain twisting their pale faces. Friends, comrades she had known since the beginning of her service with the Spirit Walkers, the majority of their order…gone. Ambushed and slaughtered like cattle by some hidden force, a force either powerful or cunning enough to avoid every defence the Temple had to offer. They were certainly powerful enough to wipe out a great number of the telepaths without an alarm being raised, and the further Avalon ventured in, the more she realized that no one had been spared by the assailants. _Assassins in the Temple!_ she screamed mentally, making back for the entrance, muscles burning as she made to raise the alarm.

Dark shadows leapt before her path, causing Avalon to instinctively ward herself with a telekinetic strike. The Nagarythe assassins went flying, hammered aside by the unpredictable assault, and Avalon burst through their ranks, fending them off with psychically-propelled books, artefacts, even the bodies of her dead. But the enemy seemed to be everywhere; black-cloaked monsters swooping in around her, hissing like serpents, blades bared for the kill, fangs lunging for her throat. _There are too many!_ the young woman cried, turning her attentions to the first of Voldemort's elite hunters, clenching a fist. Immediately, the man went down, the telekinetic bubble formed inside of his chest expanding rapidly to stop his heart. The two preceding him were pitched into the wall, shattering their bones and removing them from the fight. But the time she had spent to dispatch those assassins was time taken by others to close in, drawing their Weeping Blades, closing the distance before Avalon could react. The Spirit Walker cried in dismay as the nearest assassin slashed away, slicing into only thin air but causing her to stumble and lose her balance. Retaliating by throwing the man across the length of the room, Avalon attempted to crawl away from the circling Nagarythe, desperate to buy a few more seconds to muster an attack.

Her hands slick with the blood of her fallen compatriots, the Spirit Walker scrambled up, hoping to find safety outside of the Crystal Tower. The exertions of the past few minutes were more than she could bare, and without the warpstone to sustain her, Avalon was reaching the end of her limits. Meanwhile, the assassins hissed and snarled at her like beasts, raising their blades high. Like the rest of Voldemort's army, they too had been altered and warped by the magic, slowly losing what remained of their human nature, becoming just as monstrous as their dark master. In the Nagarythe, Avalon saw the worst aspects of the human race twisted into a dark reflection of itself, an ominous portent of the hellish future that would come to pass should the Dark Gods find victory. _I will not let that happen!_ Avalon told herself, struggling for every inch of ground.

The lead assassin was over her in three steps, raising a Weeping Blade high. "We are the Hand of Voldemort, seer. He has demanded the extermination of your kind, and we shall obey."

"Not likely," Avalon snarled.

The thunder of pounding footsteps drew the Nagarythe's attention, and Avalon struck, reaching out as if to encircle the creature's throat. Her telekinetic abilities answered her summons, and the assassin's neck turned and twisted beyond human limits before snapping with a horrible sound, his body falling to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut. The Nagarythe hissed in rage as the Shadow Hunters stormed into the tower, shouting loud oaths and boasts to one another, swords glimmering with arcane fire. One of the Elementalists screamed the charge, and the two parties violently collided against each other, the Shadow Hunters howling for blood and vengeance at the loss of their kinfolk. The assassins were caught unawares by the swiftness of the Shadow Hunters' attack, but reacted swiftly, turning their attentions to this new foe and leaping into the fray. Blades clashed and metal rang against metal, turning the deadly stillness of the Crystal Tower into something akin to a blacksmith's shop. Avalon saw Frosthowler at the tip of the spear, cleanly slicing off an opponent's head before parrying a thrust from a Weeping Blade and running the offender through. "Cleanse the wretches from this place!" he shouted, sending a barbed spike through the throat of another assassin. "Death is on the wind!"

"_Death is on the wind!_" the Shadow Hunters replied back, carving through the remaining assassins with fire and steel. Avalon joined them, throwing the Nagarythe daggers back at them with her magic and discharging telekinetic strikes into her foes, the exhilaration of combat counteracting all weariness. Several of the Shadow Hunters combined their powers for a single, devastating attack, gathering the wind to them before directing it at the dark wizards with furious speed, ripping the fresh from their bones. In terms of swordsmanship, the Nagarythe had found their equals in the Shadow Hunters, but the magical prowess of the latter was proving to be the deciding factor.

Avalon's eyes widened as a triad of Nagarythe flung themselves onto the blades of the Shadow Hunters, killing or wounding an equal number of the Elementalists before they succumbed. Voldemort's elite assassins fought with no regard for their own safety, and it horrified the young Spirit Walker to see her allies fall at the hands of such monsters. Focusing the last of her power, Avalon made a fist and squeezed. The final assassin dropped to the ground, paralytic, enabling the Shadow Hunters to swarm over him and hack him to pieces. Frosthowler was amongst them, driving his sword through an enemy's back, screaming with religious madness. "Cursed dark-spawn! Praetor Windseeker, take some of our warriors and help sweep the grounds! Praetor Riverstrong, sweep the rest of the Tower with your troops and kill any remaining assassins you encounter! As well, get a count of our fallen. Centurion Firestorm, enter the Chamber of Life and determine if the defences are working properly! And someone inform the Council!" The head Shadow Hunter whirled back to Avalon, his expression softening as the anger settled in his eyes. "We heard your psychic cries and moved to assist immediately. Are you hurt, Spirit Walker?"

"No, praise Gaea," Avalon replied, grimacing at her blood-covered robes. "It is the blood of others and not my own, fortunately. I must thank you for your timely arrival, though I fear that my order will never fully recover from this massacre, at least not for some time. Have you made a preliminary count of the dead?"

"By our reckoning, thirty-seven Spirit Walkers, and several of my Shadow Hunters have fallen as well. Damn these beasts? How in the world did they penetrate our defences? A hundred-strong force of Shadow Hunters has been guarding the Temple since the Hogsmeade attack, the fortifications appear unbroken, and yet these curs were able to slip past them all! They have shamed us, and I shall not stand for it!"

At the entrance to the Crystal Tower, Evelas entered, the high elf mage composed and certain in the face of such tragedy. "We have swept the grounds and found no trace of additional darkspawn, so it would appear that this was the only group to infiltrate the Temple. I have also sent more of our warriors to secure the various Temple Gates as well as the territory surrounding each access point. If this raid is a prelude to a greater attack, then we shall be prepared."

"Has the Council been informed?" asked Frosthowler.

"Absolutely," the sorceress replied. "I have also sent word to my people and the minotaurs, warning them of a possible attack. My forgiveness for going over your head, but I took the liberty of assigning additional Shadow Hunters to watch the paths emerging from the Forest. An attack by beastmen on the Temple is not an impossibility, given that both such creatures and Voldemort himself serve the same masters."

Frosthowler nodded in assent. "The use of initiative is always admirable. Yes, it was a sound strategy, and I know I could not have allowed the Shadow Hunters to be commanded by a more qualified warrior, Lady Evelas. For now, we must maintain our vigil and determine how these wretches infiltrated the Crystal Tower in the first place."

It was Avalon who spoke next, folding delicate hands into the sleeves of her robes. "With all due respect, Lord Frosthowler, how Voldemort's minions breached the Temple is not my primary concern here, but instead why they mounted this assault in the first place. If the Dark Lord's magicks are sophisticated enough to disguise this force, then why not send in the rest of his legions?"

"Why not indeed?" Frosthowler replied with a measure of scorn. "You may be speaking too soon, Spirit Walker, for we have no idea as to what foul devices Voldemort has prepared for us. For all we know, those legions of which you speak are on their way here now, so we must prepare."

Avalon shook her head. "It's a possibility, Lord Frosthowler, but I doubt that any such attack will be coming today. If my suspicions are correct, then Voldemort has already gotten what he came for."

"You have a theory. Share it," said Evelas.

The petite Spirit Walker paused to collect her thoughts before speaking. "The Nagarythe were very selective about their targets. They infiltrated the Temple without raising the alarm or alerting our vigilant Shadow Hunters, and made straight for the Crystal Tower. Not the Chamber of Life, the very heart of this Temple and the source of all its powers, not the barracks of our fine Shadow Hunters to cripple their ranks, but the Crystal Tower, where there were only few who could defend themselves and posed little military threat to the Death Eaters."

Frosthowler stroked his beard in thought. "Yes, your point is well-received. It is rather odd that the Nagarythe would choose to focus on our Legimens and Diviners when they had the chance, rather than warriors. Perhaps they understood that they could not defeat us in open battle, and instead tried to cause damage where they could?"

"You're on the right track, but this was more than just a spite raid. The Nagarythe ended up murdering most of the Spirit Walkers. Our best spies, researchers, precognitives…This wasn't about kill us, Lord Frosthowler, this was about _blinding_ us! It was about destroying the Council's eyes and ears, so that we will be unprepared for whatever Voldemort is planning. With so few of the Spirit Walkers left, it will be that much more difficult to determine his schemes, and counter them before he can make his move. Even our greatest warriors are useless if we do not know where or when to fight."

"Voldemort won here, didn't he?" Evelas asked, feeling fear greater than any she had experienced in her centuries of existence. "What could be so important to him that he'd be willing to sacrifice the lives of his best fighters to hide it?"

Frosthowler's expression was dark. "The end of the world, most likely."

* * *

The Chaos Stones never ceased to amaze Voldemort, and the Dark Lord quickly found himself entranced by the marvellous nature of the obelisks, often becoming distracted from the work of activating them. Perhaps it was the waves of Chaos energy emanating from the Stones that served to befuddle his mind, or simply the limitless potential that the artefacts possessed. Given enough magical power to fuel them, the Stones were capable of incredible feats of the arcane, most notably breaching the barriers between this world and the Realm of Chaos. Even dormant, they still possessed enough energy to manipulate the thoughts of those around them, even as strong willed a subject as Voldemort himself. Normally, the Dark Lord would be quite displeased with this turn of events, fearing all signs of weakness in himself, but here, he was actually quite intrigued. Truly, the Chaos Stones were a marvel. If they could influence even his unbreakable will, then they were powerful talismans indeed, and just the thing he needed to bring about his new world. 

Skeletal fingers traced the obscene pages of the tome lovingly, and the Dark Lord saw his destiny reflected in the hideous words printed in blood. The Dark Gods of Chaos were murderous, fickle creatures, but they had thus far been loyal to their agreement with Voldemort, providing him access to new spells, minions and sources of power. Like him, they were creatures that thrived on magic to survive, and thanks to their enchantments, Voldemort could feel himself becoming stronger each and every day, gradually erasing the flaw that plagued his new body. He was growing beyond such _human_ needs as rest or sustenance, and the casting of wandless spells was becoming as natural to him as movement or speech. And now, so close to final victory, the Dark Lord permitted himself to enjoy his moment of triumph. "Rejoice, my faithful!" he crowed from the reviewing stand of his fortress, gazing down upon the Death Eater forces arrayed around the Chaos Stones below. "Our victory is upon us! The way had been prepared! I shall open the Infernal Gate and release the forces of Chaos onto this world! The decadent, impure mongrels of the Wizarding World will be brought to task for their perversions, and the race of brutes known as Muggles will be consigned to the flame! You, my faithful, have served me well, and for that I shall give to you what was promised: a place in the new Eden, a new world free from the corrupt ways of the Mudbloods! Prepare to embrace _paradise!_"

The assembled Death Eater legions cheered, shouting praises to their master, all the while their bestial allies roared in delight. Voldemort had constructed this grand host with more than just threats and base racial appeals, instead playing the desires and longings of those he recruited. A chance to distinguish oneself from the slovenly masses of Wizarding England, a chance to gain power, money, respect and women, a chance to avenge old grudges and a chance to defend one's kin. These were the things that Lord Voldemort offered, and with the masses of prisoners conscripted into his ranks alongside the downtrodden and the ignored, it was benefitting his plans fivefold.

Behind the Dark Lord, Isolde von Albrecht, Queen of the Gathering Dark, chuckled mirthlessly. "Such a pretty speech, my Lord," the vampire commented with a hint of mockery in her immortal voice, made bitter by the losses she had incurred. Her duel with Cho Chang had cost her much of her ageless beauty, with the left half of her face scarred and melted from the Champion's fire, and a great wound carved deep into her side. Reaffirming her vengeance against Ravenclaw's heir, the vampire had thrown herself into the war effort, breaking the more stubborn vampire clans into an army in her service. "I hope that my people have done enough to earn this paradise of yours. When is the summoning to begin?"

"Soon, Isolde, soon," Voldemort replied, placing the spellbook on the altar before him. A quick check certified that the Chaos Stones were in perfect alignment, arrayed in a perfect circle, each individual obelisk at precisely forty-four degrees to the other. The Death Eaters arrayed below would act as a power source, helping to fuel and sustain his sorcery. He had located and reabsorbed each Horcrux of his creation, fulfilling a final, necessary element to the spell. Everything was in place. For the _second_ time in fifteen centuries, the Chaos Stones would work to create an Infernal Gate, bringing the extra-dimensional horrors of Chaos onto Earth once more.

For the Chaos Stones had been used for this dread purpose before, in the waning days of the magical empire of Veneficus, five hundred years before the Founders came. Veneficus had been a powerful, influential magical state during the waning years of Rome, but soon fell prey to the decadence and apathy that often resulted from a secure, prosperous environment. As the empire's leaders began squabbling with one another for power, their greatest sorceress, Morgana le Fay, broached a deal with the forces of Chaos in hopes of saving her people. The resulting Cataclysm destroyed Veneficus and slaughtered thousands of witches and wizards, destroying much of their gathered knowledge alongside the corruption. It was in this ruined state that, five hundred years later, the Four Founders of Hogwarts came to rebuild Wizarding England, rejuvenating magical life and research. Despite the destruction, le Fay had done good in siding with Chaos, the losses of the past resulting in a strong Wizarding England in the future. Voldemort had learned this, and more, from the last of Morgana's spellbooks, and now intended on using the incantations within to replicate the sorceress' greatest work. Rookwood had been invaluable in gathering the necessary materials, and the Dark Lord had his assurance that they were well-prepared to create a functional portal. The Death Eater researcher knew the consequences of failure, and would not disappoint him.

Standing upon the thin platform overlooking the Stones, Voldemort raised his arms and began to chant, beckoning the Stones to awaken. His robes were swiftly removed by two attendants, who began to carve the foul runes of Chaos into his flesh with obsidian blades, a sign of his devotion to the Ruinous Powers and his willingness to sacrifice to them. Orders were shouted down below, and a company of Death Eaters hauled Hell Pit's population of Muggle slaves to each of the eight stones, a full hundred pitiful, exhausted men and women flinching under the Dark wizard's whips. Voldemort's chanting accelerated in pace, causing curses and knives to flash amongst the Death Eaters, butchering the slaves with all the concern of a butcher preparing his wares. The harpies screeched from their roosts, anxious for flesh, but the Dark wizards kept them in line. Nothing would disturb the Master's ritual.

Bleeding from a score of wounds, the Dark Lord persisted, ignoring the pain of his own, personal offering to the Dark Gods, taking care not to mispronounce a single syllable or phrase of the text. "Taste of the blood of the innocent!" Voldemort cried, smiling as the Stones began to stir. "Feed on the blood of sacrifice and taste of my dedication to Chaos! Sate your hunger and grant your kind passage from the Realm!"

Lines of force rippled up the Marks of Chaos emblazoned on the Stones, and dark tendrils of energy burst forth to bathe the area in an eerie, terrifying light, lunging for the murdered slaves. Seizing one in each whip-like tentacle, the Stones _consumed_ the freshly-slain souls, devouring their life-force and drawing them in to fuel the portal. The obelisks began to hum with the acquired energy, waking from centuries of slumber, and Voldemort continued his spellwork, relying upon his minions to help him complete it.

"Now!" Asmodeus shouted to the Death Eaters, raising his wand. "_Vox se gero!_" A conduit of sickly green energy sprung from his wand to connect with one of the Stones, and the rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, offering their magical power to the artefacts. The obelisks began to glow, seething with power, and the Death Eaters pushed even harder even as some of their number fell, sucked dry by the Stones and left withering corpses. "Keep it up! Do not falter!" the First Death Eater barked to his troops, as Goyle Senior let out a hollow scream before crumbling into dust.

The crack of doom sounded, and reality torn asunder, spewing forth waves of Chaos energies as the Infernal Gate opened to greet the Dark Lord. Death Eaters staggered back, holding their heads in agony in the face of such power, while the werewolves began to spontaneously transform, mutating with the sudden influx of Dark Magic. Humans and demi-humans alike fell on their knees, grovelling before the mirror-like portal and the ranks of vicious, horned warriors it expelled.

And then from beyond the looking glass, their leader appeared to view, beautiful and terrible in equal measures. It was titanic in height, a colossus rippling with muscle beneath a series of black-armoured plates fused to its flesh. Its inverted legs ended in goat hooves, while piercing red eyes glared from the sockets of a hawkish visage, mouth lined with dagger-like teeth. Most awe-inspiring of all were its massive wings, seemingly constructed out of rusting metal and broken machinery, giving the beast a harsh, industrial appearance. For it was the face of conflict, the bringer of destruction, one of the Eight, and by its whims and wishes civilizations were devoured by the horrifying presence of War.

Voldemort bowed before the colossus. "Hail, Kharaidon, God of War, greatest of the Eight! Step forth unto my world and unleash the Age of Chaos! Give to me that which was promised!"

The daemonlord laughed, and prepared to move through into our realm…

* * *

**A/N:** **Well, another chapter done, and I hope you all enjoy! I took your advice about shortening the chapters into account here, and while it's not the smallest it can be, I think the length issue is starting to get a bit better. No Harry or Cho here, I'm afraid, though the next chapter will have plenty of them. Apologies for the delay, but family issues and some mechanical problems at my house in Peterborough meant it would be late. Sorry about that. Still, thanks for all the support, and I'll look forward to hearing what you have to say about this latest instalment!**

**And as always, a hearty thanks to Will for editing the chapter.**

_Next Chapter: Harry and Cho face off on the Pitch, while Voldemort undergoes a few changes…_


	28. Flying Snow Overdrive

****

Chapter 28: Flying Snow Overdrive

Like a river overflowing its banks, excitement for the championship Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had swallowed the school. Banners and pennants bearing the colours of the competing Houses sprouted like wildflowers after a summer rain throughout the school, from the peaks of the towers to the dank recesses of the Slytherin dungeons. In the preceding weeks, Ron and Harry had trained the Gryffindors until they collapsed, eager to defeat the highly-experienced and –trained Ravenclaws. It would be the most difficult match any of them had ever faced, made all the more so by the Firebolt Cho possessed, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Ron. "Mate, couldn't you have waited to give her the broom _after_ the final game? I know she's your girlfriend and all, but what about the Cup? If we end up losing…"

"We won't, Ron, I promise," Harry had told him, as much to boost the Keeper's confidence as his own. For Cho was not a broken shell of herself, lost in grief and easily distracted, but instead a proud and determined young woman whose Quidditch skills had significantly increased in the past year. After the torturous practices that would make Oliver Wood weep, there was little they could do now, save for play.

The day of the match dawned, and the two Quidditch teams moved onto the Pitch, accompanied by the cheers and shouts of the student body, while the flags and symbols of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor flew in equal numbers amongst the crowd. "Bugger, Hogwart's is really into it today," Ron said. "You ready, Harry?"

"Of course," the Seeker replied, stretching in preparation for the chase. "How's the rest of the team?"

"They're fine," Ron answered. "I had to give them a heroic speech, but they're all set and ready." He turned his attention to the incoming Ravenclaw team. "Hey, Chang! I brought your boyfriend here, just in case you needed comforting after you lose."

The jibe was good-natured and friendly, and Cho took up the torch in earnest. "Hey, Weasley! Sorry I didn't hear that, but the lads and I were too engrossed in listening to that song of yours. We were at the verse where you 'let in everything'. Not the best omen for the game, is it?" The beautiful Quidditch Captain was all smiles as she reached the center with her team, sapphire robes blazing bright in the spring sun, brooms polished to a mirror-shine, looking for all the world like a professional Quidditch unit, disciplined and well-trained. "Sorry we're a bit tardy, I was in bed, enjoying the thought of an easy victory," she said, a butterfly sigil sewn into the chest of her robes, while the royal-blue cloak bore the emblem of a great swan. "Shall we get on with this, Captain Weasley?"

"Yeah, Captain Chang, Harry's getting a bit anxious for the Snitch."

Cho raised an eyebrow. "Is he? Well, Harry is going to have to learn that ladies go first."

"I've never been one for tradition, Cho," Harry said, nodding to her. "Good luck to you."

"And you, Harry," his lover answered, bringing her Firebolt to her side. It was unlike any meeting with the opposing team Harry had ever experienced; the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws jested good-heartedly with each other, and more than one player shook the hands of their challengers and wished them luck. Mounting his broom, Harry glanced over the girl offering her teammates a few more suggestions. Meeting her eyes, Harry gave Cho an almost unperceivable nod, a sign of respect from one Seeker to another. _I love you_, he mouthed to the beautiful Ravenclaw, watching with joy as she mouthed the words back before slapping down the pilot's goggles. Yes, they would compete with each other until their fingers were worn down to the bone, they would not hesitate to achieve victory, would never throw a game, and would love each other all the same.

Hooch's whistle shrieked sharply, and the crowd exploded with excitement as the players soared from the Pitch like eagles, taking the skies the moment the signal was given with machinelike precision and intensity. As the Chasers pounced on the Quaffle in a wild scrum, the Seekers immediately pursued the Snitch, not content merely to hover over the stadium and let the prize come to them. Harry kicked his broom into high gear, seeing Cho enter into an aggressive search pattern, darting around the Pitch. Replicating her strategy, the Gryffindor went in the opposite direction, hoping to take advantage of airspace his opponent had thus far ignored. The Ravenclaw fans erupted as their Chasers scored the first goal, and Harry faintly heard Ron curse in the background. If he had any expectations that this game would go smoothly, this most recent omen served to dash those hopes.

About a dozen feet below the Seekers, the Chasers engaged in their own private little war, the speed and energy of the younger Gryffindor line countered by the more experienced and steadfast Ravenclaws, and something of an aerial stalemate began to emerge. Every pass was intercepted, every stratagem was identified and countered, and should one team manage to bypass the enemy Keeper to score a goal, the opposition quickly rallied and retaliated, leaving the score at a dead heat. The Beaters were certainly of little help here, blocking each other at every opportunity and preventing them from aiding the Chasers. Harry put all this out of his mind; the Snitch was his only priority, and as a cheer sounded from the other end of the Pitch, he pulled the Firebolt into a hard turn and raced towards it, as Cho Chang was hot on the Snitch's tail. Bringing the broom's legendary acceleration to bear, the Gryffindor Seeker streaked towards her, trying to anticipate the best point at which to intercept the Snitch, made all the more difficult due to the fact that the golden orb was unusually quick and agile this game.

Fifty metres from the Snitch, and the two Seekers were on a collision course, the Snitch between them, and neither showed any signs of stopping. Harry could even see Cho's lips turn up in a proud smile as she lay flat on her broom, cutting down on the wind resistance and letting her nudge ahead. From the Announcer's Booth, Dean Thomas's voice captured the intensity of the moment. "It's a game of chicken between the Seekers, and the Snitch is the prize! Man, these two are going at it! It's down to the wire h- the Snitch banks right! Potter and Chang go after it…see the excellent handling of the Firebolt in action here as they make the turn! Now the Snitch is heading for the centre of the Pitch, Chang and Potter in hot pursuit- BLUDGERS COMING IN!"

Harry lay flat on the Firebolt, twisting to the side as a Bludger rocketed past, scraping over his back. Recovering quickly, he cursed as the Snitch disappeared from his sight, the manic chase disrupted by the hands of fate or the Beaters, he couldn't tell which. Alongside him, Cho banked to the right, gaining altitude in hopes of tracking the Snitch again. Wiping his sweat-covered brow with a leather greave, Harry decided to change tactics. Cutting forward speed, the Gryffindor Seeker let himself drop into a Wronski Feint, spiralling towards the earth in an almost uncontrollable dive, whispering to Merlin to let Cho take the bait. The crowd held its collective breath, and Dean proclaimed from the booth in a trumpeting voice that Harry had seen the Snitch. The audience bought it.

Cho, unfortunately, was made of cannier stuff than that, and continued on her hunt as if nothing had happened. Shaking his head, yet grinning at his lover's excellent sense of Quidditch tactics, Harry pulled up ten feet from the ground, the broom groaning from the stress of the sudden manoeuvre. Another goal by the Gryffindor Chasers put them ahead 70-60, but the Ravenclaw Keeper, a sixth-year girl as tenacious and skilful as Ron, wasn't making it easy for them. With the Snitch nowhere in sight, Harry took the opportunity to aid the Chaser line for a few moments, buzzing the Ravenclaws and disrupting their plays, allowing Gryffindor to score two additional goals before he returned to his search.

A golden flash twinkled in the corner of Harry's eye: the Snitch, fluttering near ground level beside the boards. Taking care not to alert the still-searching Cho, Harry continued with his own search pattern for a few moments, before rapidly changing direction and pursuing the orb, hoping that his feint brought him a few precious seconds. The Snitch dodged and weaved with an intensity never before seen, yet Harry stayed on it like a bloodhound after a fox, trying to anticipate and pre-empt its almost random flight path. Cho soared in with lightning speed, and Harry jerked his broom in front of her, cutting her off. "Ready to give up?"

The Ravenclaw Seeker laughed, deftly manoeuvring around Harry to put herself neck and neck. "I was going to ask you the same!" The Snitch suddenly jumped ahead, and they pursued, pushing their brooms to ever increasing speeds, racing inside the boards in great circular laps, over and over again. It became a test of acceleration, the two Seekers pushing themselves and their equipment to their limits, until the stands and spectators became a colourful blur around them. Harry mentally kicked himself for not wearing goggles like Cho; at the speeds they were travelling, a bug could take his eye out easily and end a promising Quidditch career. Dropping several feet to avoid a Bludger before gaining altitude once more, he began to shift his body weight around to quicken his turns, as the Snitch zig-zagged and manoeuvred swiftly around the Pitch, while Cho instead tried to anticipate its next move. The golden walnut suddenly stopped and reversed direction, causing the Seekers to overtake it; Harry immediately cut his forward speed, his greater experience with the Firebolt letting him respond quicker. Cho recovered swiftly and was soon on his tail, the aerial ballet intensifying even as the skies turned dark and a faint rumble could be heard on the horizon.

Unable to shake its pursuers, the Snitch climbed, rising above the towers lining the stands, rising until the Pitch itself began to shrink from view, and yet Harry and Cho followed, even as their brooms began flying at ever steeper angles. The first raindrops began lashing down at them, threatening to drag them off, then abruptly as the Snitch had climbed, it dove back to the earth again. Harry turned sharply to follow, but the broom was too slow, the Snitch now too distant, and once he lost sight of the orb, the process would begin again.

Then Cho dove. Not dove, rather, but _fell_, letting the broom drop powerless and somersaulting off, leaving nothing beneath her but the rapidly-approaching ground. Horrified screams sounded as both girl and broom plummeted towards the earth, and Harry abandoned the pursuit of the Snitch to intercept her, noticing how her eyes remained closed, as if in meditation. _Please don't let her die, please don't let her die…_

Chocolate-brown orbs snapped open, and a lithe arm reached out, seizing the Firebolt from the air and bringing it to support the girl's weight, straws humming as it returned to life. Cho spun uncontrollably for a few seconds, then yanked up hard on the head of the broom and stopped the fall. Within half an instant, before Harry had any chance to react, the Ravenclaw Seeker was rocketing towards the Top Box, fishtailing before she crashed into the teachers, left arm extended. Leather-bound fingers closed, and the Ravenclaw stands erupted in jubilation, as Cho Chang pumped a fist into the air, the polished shell of the Golden Snitch bright even in the pouring rain.

Six figures in sodden blue cloaks whirled around her as she landed, slapping her on the back, while the Ravenclaws reached a new fever pitch as Dean announced the final score, 240-100 Ravenclaw. Harry heard himself cheer in amazement at his lover's skill. "Unbelievable!" he crowed. "Merlin's beard, how did she do that? That was incredible!"

Behind him, Ron cursed. "So much for winning the Cup again this year. McGonagall's going to be upset tonight, that's for certain, not to mention Ginny!"

"We've had our glory, and now its Cho's turn. Besides, you and the rest of the team played well. If anyone's to blame for us losing, it's me."

"Better her than Malfoy, at any rate. And I _was_ right, you shouldn't have given her that Firebolt!"

The two friends laughed, and joined the rest of the team in congratulating Cho as the Quidditch Cup was hoisted over her head, rain and tears of joy flowing down her face. The disgrace of defeat she had experienced last year had been erased, and her beautiful features lit up in a way Harry hadn't seen for a while. _Enjoy it, love. You've definitely earned it._ Corner began talking about a big party in Ravenclaw Tower, but from the look in her eyes, it was clear she would be elsewhere. Wrapping her arms around Harry, she asked, "Now then about that bet…"

* * *

From beyond the Infernal Gate, Kharaidon smiled, evidently pleased with the gains of his servant. "You have done well, Voldemort of the Death Eaters," the Dark God said, its voice pleasant and seductive in spite of the daemonlord's hideous form. "It pleases me to see that you have fulfilled the oath as promised. Are you and yours prepared for the world that lies ahead?"

"Yes," Voldemort hissed, humbling himself before the daemonlord, still bleeding profusely from the ritual sigils carved into his flesh. "Step forth into my reality, Kharaidon, and cleanse the world of all its imperfections! Show us the glory that is Chaos, and grant me the power promised!"

The honour guard of lesser daemons standing on either side of the portal let out barbarian howls of triumph, and Kharaidon stepped forward, right hand reaching out in anticipation for his glorious passage. Voldemort felt a swell of triumph in his black heart, and paused for the rush of power that would come with Kharaidon's entry, the magicks of Chaos that would elevate him to godhood.

Yet the daemonlord _did_ not cross, _could_ not cross, and remained trapped within the Realm of Chaos despite the open Infernal Gate. The God of War strained and pressed against the event horizon, sending ripples surging along the portal, but the dimensional membrane held. The daemonic honour guard snarled in dismay, drawing huge battle-axes and pikes from their flesh, while the Chaos Stones began to hiss and whine under the strain. After a few minutes of exertion, Kharaidon ceased his attempts to enter Earth, staring down at Voldemort with all the cruelty and anger he possessed. "This portal is…_insufficient_ to transport the entirety of my majestic form." Waves of hatred radiated from the portal, and many of the Death Eaters cried out in pain, shrinking back from the Infernal Gate. "And the ritual is yet incompleted, one piece of your soul has not yet been returned to you. You promised me that a stable portal could be formed, that I would taste of this world's air and feast of this world's life once more. And you have failed me, Voldemort."

"No, my lord, please!" Voldemort cried, nearly begging now, black blood running down his face. "I can still fuel the portal!"

"Another desperate, foolish ploy by another pathetic insect attempting to win the favour of Chaos," the daemonlord replied. "Since you cannot guarantee my passage, your existence has become as insignificant and without purpose as any other. The power you desire will forevermore lie out of your reach, Voldemort, and you will be claimed by death as is the fate of all mortals."

"_No!_" Riddle screamed. "I beg you, Kharaidon, don't leave me! There is another way! The doorway can be sustained enough to grant your entrance, but I need more time!"

Daemons snarled and readied themselves for the charge, but Kharaidon motioned them back with a wave of his hideous talons. "Speak, and I shall judge."

Immensely grateful for this temporary reprieve, Voldemort gladly took it, rising up to look the daemonlord in the eye. "The ritual works, my lord, I have proven it. The Stones are intact and I possess the skill and the power needed to open the gate. All that remains is the power source. I know of a place where magic flows freely, where the arcane energies that can be tapped and wielded to fuel the Infernal Gate are ten, a hundred times greater than this! And my armies are strong, Kharaidon. This location can be seized and secured long enough for the Stones to be assembled, the portal created, and Earth delivered to you."

Kharaidon was silent, affixing Voldemort with its hellish stare. "You failed me today, Voldemort. How can I know that you will not fail again?"

"Earth can be _yours_, Kharaidon! Its magicks drained, its life consumed, all empowering you even further to exceed the strength of your brothers! Both Earth and the Realm of Chaos will bow down before you, but if you will only trust my judgement and my power. Look within my mind, Lord Kharaidon. See my plan unfold, and judge for yourself."

The daemonlord's gaze only seemed to grow more intense, and Voldemort hissed in pain as Kharaidon entered his mind. Everything was silent for a moment, both daemons and Death Eaters as silent as statues.

And then Kharaidon laughed, harsh, booming and terrifying. "You can make this happen?" it asked, flames curling up the corners of its mouth. "You can bring it about?"

"Yes," Voldemort said. "They are as much my enemies are they are yours, and the energies of the place will be perfect for fuelling the Infernal Gate. And, there are plenty of potential sacrifices to ignite the spellwork. I will redeem myself, Kharaidon. I will bring you to this world."

"Magnificent. Such _destruction_ that will result, such _pain_ that will be born from this scheme. Yes, perhaps you are of some value after all. Very well, Voldemort. You have earned yourself a respite, but the torments that you shall endure if you fail again will be many-fold in return for your previous infraction."

Voldemort bowed. "Thank you, Lord Kharaidon."

"And now, a small token of my appreciation."

"My lord-"

Kharaidon's eyes blazed and the portal rippled ominously, even as warpfire gathered in its right hand. "No. I _insist!_"

Warpfire exploded outward from the daemonlord's outstretched hand, slamming into the event horizon with an avalanche's force, pushing and straining against the portal before piercing the membrane. As the Infernal Gate sealed with a monstrous crack and the Chaos Stones went dark, the fragment of daemonic energy homed in on Voldemort, circling around him like twisting adders before lunging and swallowing the Dark Lord into a burst of purple flame.

Voldemort screamed as the fires stroked his flesh with its agonizing touch, entering him through every wound and orifice. The ritual markings glowed bright onto his flesh, drawing in the magic, permeating every cell and fibre of his body, reshaping him, _transforming_ him. From both the reviewing stand and the pit below, the Death Eaters watched in horror as their master was dragged up by unseen hands, breaking and twisting him, until the fire burst from every pore and consumed him.

Silence fell over Hell Pit, broken only by the most terrified whispers of Bellatrix Lestrange. "_Master…_"

Ash fell and split from his body, and Voldemort arose, emerging from the fire like a newborn bird from its shell. The Dark Lord paused to admire his new form, his satisfaction growing with each moment that passed. While his previous body had been emaciated and skeletal, this form was strong and humming with strength. Vitality surged through his limbs and great muscles had been sculpted into glowing, healthy flesh, even as dark hair sprouted from the top of his skull. His former form had been horrifying to gaze upon, but this new body possessed a terrible, inhuman beauty to it, marred only by the numerous Chaos runes left as black scars on his skin. The unholy sigils seemed to grant Voldemort new strength and endurance, and the Dark Lord imagined himself punching through the solid rock of Hell Pit with his fists or seeing enemy swords harmlessly deflect off his body. "Marvellous…" he whispered, clenching a fist and watching with glee as the warpfire of Chaos burst forth effortlessly. Chaos had torn him down and rebuilt him, making him stronger than ever, particularly in his mastery of spellcasting, thanks to the pure Dark Magic thrumming through his veins. _And to think that it nearly failed…_

"Robes," he commanded in a thick, rich tenor. "And bring me Rookwood. I'd like to test something."

As Bellatrix Lestrange placed a jet-black robe over her Lord's body with a look of adoration, Asmodeus brought Rookwood forward, the traitorous Unspeakable grovelling before his master. "You failed me tonight, Rookwood," Voldemort said, speaking with a terrifying calm. "I was under the impression that the portal would sustain Kharaidon's complete entrance, not merely a portion of his power. And as much as I am _grateful_ for the gift granted to me, it is far less than I expected, particularly given your promises you gave to me."

Rookwood pleaded at his Master's feet. "My Lord, there was simply not enough power to sustain the portal, that is all! My calculations were perfect and the ritual was without flaws! As you said, it was simply a question of power, and by all accounts, you have a most magnificent plan in mind…"

"What of your notes, Rookwood? Do you still possess them?"

"Yes, my Lord, they are kept in a safe place. If you want me to review my calculations with you-"

"No, I was simply determining whether your presence amongst the Inner Circle is worth keeping, and since your work can be replicated, the answer is no." The Dark Lord raised a hand. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Rookwood barely had time to scream before the Killing Curse stuck him, dying swiftly before Asmodeus booted his lifeless body from the reviewing stand into the pit below. "Most interesting," Voldemort exclaimed, so engrossed with his new powers that the looks of his followers went unnoticed. "Wandless magic, without any effort. Truly the Dark Gods of Chaos are mighty in all things."

"But it requires a powerful wizard to wield their magicks, my Lord," Asmodeus said, scornfully gazing down upon Rookwood's broken corpse. "Magic means nothing without the might of will to control and use it well, as you taught me."

"And you have learned your lessons well." Voldemort paused to consider his wand, half-buried in a pile of soot and ash. "Destroy that primitive thing, Asmodeus, and make sure no trace remains. It appears I no longer have need of it."

As his lieutenant moved to do his master's bidding, Voldemort turned to address his legions, the failure of the ritual set aside in the minds of all. "My faithful! You have seen the power of the Dark Gods, witnessed what they can accomplish, and now with their aid well in hand, our victory cannot be stopped! Beyond these walls lies a world of decadence, of _perversion_, where the pure and noble blood of our people is ravaged and corrupted by the filth of the Muggles and their allies! It is a world where blood treason is the common currency, and the grand culture and traditions of Wizardingkind are discarded and cast aside for mongrel ideas of tolerance. They may have taken the rest of our people into their disgusting fold, but we remain free of their lies! With Chaos at our beck and call, and with the strong hearts of men like you, we will eradicate the Muggle disease from this world, and create a new Eden, one free of their kind. Will you serve me? Will you follow me through fire and death? Do so, and there will be a place for you in this paradise, where all your dreams will become reality. What say you?"

"For Lord Voldemort," Asmodeus breathed, inciting others to join him. "For the Dark Lord and the Grand Crusade! Death to the _mudbloods!_"

"_Death!_" came their rallying cry, a thousand angry voices cheering on the Dark Lord's madness.

"Then go forth! In one night's time, we shall claim the greatest prize in the Wizarding World, and reach the gates of Paradise! And the world will be swept clean by the purging fires of Chaos. Prepare yourselves for _ascension_."

The hordes bellowed Voldemort's name, a thought that pleased the Dark Lord. In truth, the ritual could have gone disastrously; it was only due to a hastily-conceived backup plan and by allowing Kharaidon to peer inside his mind that catastrophe was averted and his agenda preserved. Yet Lord Voldemort was not foolish, for while he had allowed the daemonlord to examine many of his thoughts, _other_ areas of his mind still remained closed off, sealed to the influence of Chaos, while he had temporarily walled off his connection to the Potter boy. He would not jeopardize his plans at this stage, not when he was _so close!_ Soon, his enemies would lie dead before him, the power of a god would be his, and he would lord over a new world in which all life called him master. Bearing a small, vicious smile, the Dark Lord retreated back to his chambers, ignoring the ranks of Death Eaters that scurried away in his wake. Much had been done, yet still much remained, and he had to prepare.

* * *

The rain pelted down upon the tent, rapping furiously against the canvas, but for all the storm's fury, the interior was left safe and dry, perfect for the two lovers who nestled together on the futon. While the rest of the school marked the evening with celebration and riotous noise, Harry and Cho slipped away through the numerous secret passageways and corridors that honeycombed the castle, and made for the tent he had prepared beforehand. "Both my tower and yours will be madhouses tonight," the Gryffindor explained, draping his coat over the raven-locked girl to shield her from the pounding rain. "And it'll be the last time I see you for a while, and it's your birthday tomorrow, so I want to make it special."

"Where did you find this?" Cho had asked, noting with pleasure that the tent was a magical one, enchanted to offer greater space than its physical framework permitted, rather than a crude Muggle model.

"I called in that favour with Fred and George. The tent isn't worth a thousand Galleons, I think, but considering how priceless you are, it's a bargain."

Cho positively beamed at the compliment, and Harry took the opportunity to slide in behind her, callused hands massaging her sides through the silk blouse. "But tell me, Cho," he whispered into her ear, drawing an aroused gasp. "Where exactly did you learn that manoeuvre?"

"Impressed?"

"Absolutely! To be honest, it was the most brilliant bit of flying I've seen! I admit, I was worried about you for a second, but you pulled it off. Was it something you learned from a Quidditch playbook, something you made up yourself?"

"I conceived it about a night before the match. I knew that since we were both on Firebolts, the Snitch would be adjusted to provide more of a challenge. And you're arguably the school's best Seeker, so I needed a way to improve my odds when things went bad." The beautiful Ravenclaw gave a mischievous, sultry smile, pushing him down onto the futon, straddling him. "So yes, it was something I improvised, but I never managed to test it out in practice sessions, so that was the first time."

"Brilliant," Harry whispered. "Bloody brilliant. You definitely earned the Quidditch Cup, and no mistake. You've come a long way, Cho, you should be proud." He meant it; Cho had matured and grown a great deal emotionally since their training had begun, emerging from the chrysalis of grief and self-doubt to become someone even greater, her skills and abilities finally given a chance to shin now that the clouds had parted. "What about your parents? I'd think that they'd be pleased with you winning."

Cho sighed, eyes falling into misery. "I'm afraid not. Apparently, it isn't proper for a lady to be playing such a rough sport, and they consider it to be a frivolous waste of time regardless. They think I should spend more time on my studies, to improve my marks." The girl shrugged. "My marks are already great, and my parents couldn't care less about what I was studying, just so long as I accomplish things they can show off. My goal of becoming a Healer means nothing to them, and in fact they would prefer something more…domestic."

"That's why they want you to marry Zhang."

"My family is pureblood, Harry, and while they're not blood supremacists like the Malfoys or their ilk, they still remain rooted in many traditions held by pureblood wizards. First and foremost, arranged marriages are central to much of pureblood society; with so many families possessing a great deal of money, and with a family's good name to preserve, any and all marriages are usually either suggested by the parents or demanded by them. It helps keep fortunes intact, status preserved, and it helps forge the political alliances that high-status purebloods relish, mine included. My parents would never let me wed someone they didn't propose. Zhang's the top choice, but he's one of many they would consider to be a suitable match for me. If not him, then another." Cho let out an exasperated sigh.

Harry paused to consider this, running a hand through her silky hair. "No offense, but your parents sound like horrible people."

"They're not horrible!" Cho snapped, somewhat angry at the accusation. "They're just…small-minded, that's all. Harry, my parents love me, they genuinely do, but the way they express this love isn't always in my best interests. My love, I am not abused by them. I have enough to eat, I live in a wonderful house, I wear good clothes and I have a small library full of knowledge from around the world. These are all good things, and they see giving me to a husband of their choice as just one of them. They can be cold and condescending, that is true, but they truly believe that marrying me to Zhang is the right thing to do!"

"But they must think about your feelings as well!"

"Of course they should! But, as I said, they are small-minded at times. My opposition to this marriage, the course of the war, the fates of the poor or less-fortunate, _anything_; if it does not correspond to their worldview, then it is shunned and ignored. My father cares not for the war, or what will happen if Voldemort wins. He's too concerned with managing the businesses, considering profits and losses in Galleons, not lives. As for my mother…" Cho looked positively downcast when she came to this. "As for my mother, she is a great bird that has, for too long, remained locked in her cage, and now accepts the bars and locks as the only existence she has. She is a woman of high society, not science, homemaking rather than magic, and the person she's become…" She paused again, tears filling her eyes. "I can't be like that. I _won't_, and it's high time they recognized it."

Harry felt pity for the beautiful young woman grasp his heart. Here she was, talented, intelligent, powerful and compassionate, yet those closest to her couldn't see it, and for all those who marvelled her beauty, they often forgot that fact. "Are you certain you don't want me to come with you tomorrow? I can afford to miss a day's worth of classes if it means being a help to you."

Cho shook her head. "Please, Harry, I told you before; I need to do this alone. I appreciate your support, I really do, but this is my fight and I need to win it myself. It's…" Her voice trailed off here, becoming a bare whisper. "I need to prove to myself that I'm strong."

"But you _are_," Harry exclaimed, grasping her by the shoulders. "Cho, every day you prove that you're a strong woman. No one who faced the things you have and survived could ever be considered weak."

"A strong woman wouldn't have broken down in the face of her grief as I did last year. A strong woman wouldn't let the barbs of those she once considered friends to hurt her, or tremble in fear at the thought of facing down her parents." She sighed, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose as if to dispel a headache. "I don't know Harry, sometimes I just feel so weak, so pathetic, too fragile to be of any use to anyone, and I have to remind myself every damn day that I'm capable of doing great things. Maybe it's just stress, but I need to do this by myself, to prove that I'm strong, that I'm able to stand up on my own feet. Please, if you love me, you'll let me do this."

Harry considered her words for a moment, then nodded. Personally, he felt that she was being too critical, but he understood the need to prove her strength, even if only for herself. "Okay then. If you're certain you have to do this alone, I won't stand in your way. But," he emphasised, kissing her lips softly. "Just remember, Cho, it's okay to have these feelings; you can't be made of iron twenty-four hours a day. And no matter what, you have never let them interfere with achieving your goals, whether it was getting good marks or working with the Army or fighting the Death Eaters. No one in their right mind blames you for weeping over Cedric; I did last year, but that's because I was an insensitive clod and an idiot. You grieved because you loved him, didn't you?"

Cho looked up, chocolate-brown eyes becoming tinged with sorrow. "I still do," she said, wrapping her arms around Harry and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Cedric was a wonderful man, Harry, and while the grief has faded and the pain has disappeared, a part of my heart will always remain with him." The Ravenclaw smiled wistfully, as if reminiscing on what might have been. "Did I ever tell you that Cedric proposed to me?"

It took a moment for Harry's shock to fade. "Sweet Merlin, Cho, you should have told me!" he answered, grasping her tightly. _No wonder she cried over him_, he thought to himself, stroking her hair in a comforting gesture. "When did this happen?"

"Right before the Third Task. He took me out onto the grounds the night before, and we just lay there in each other's arms watching the stars go past." The lovely girl blushed as she recounted the following events. "I was young and foolish back then, and wanted to make love to him but he refused. He wanted to save himself for marriage, and proposed to me right then and there."

"And? What did you say?"

"I refused him, Harry. I simply wasn't ready for that kind of commitment then, and I wouldn't consider myself ready for it now, even with you. But he took it in stride and told me he'd wait. Our relationship wasn't too popular with our parents; mine, as you can guess, weren't happy about me finding love with someone they didn't choose, and Cedric's parents were less than thrilled with having a Chinese girl dating their son. Amos in particular was rather cruel to me, and he missed no opportunity to deride my heritage."

"Bastard." The word burst forth from Harry's lips, recalling the pity he had felt for the man upon his death at Azkaban, and he burned with shame to consider how he might have felt sorry for Amos. Turning back to the more important matter, he said, "I'm sorry, Cho, I had no idea that you and Cedric had gotten so close. I know you loved each other, but marriage..."

"Puts a whole different spin on things, doesn't it?" she asked, pressing up against him, the feel of her full breasts filling him with desire. Moist lips laid oh-so-gentle kisses on the length of his neck, teasing and tormenting the Gryffindor, putting him into a growing state of euphoria. "You're not angry with me?"

Harry kissed her, cradling the smooth oval of her face in his hands. "No, I'm not. I just wish that you'd told me sooner. Maybe I could have helped you?"

"Like with my parents, it was my fight to face. Let's face it, at the time, I was too caught up in my own troubles to explain it to myself, let alone anyone else. I just…didn't want to burden you any further."

"But you're not a burden, Cho, not in the least. Hell, sometimes, I feel like I'm dragging _you_ down rather than the other way, After all, you're a brilliant young woman who can play a great game of Quidditch and write essays on the laws of Transfiguration and the histories of past Dark Lords, while I'm just a arrogant kid who can't even consider things beyond the moment. For you, the future is something to be taken hold of, to be shaped in your image, while I have no idea what to do after the war is won. I thought about becoming an Auror or going professional with Quidditch, but to be honest, the only thing I want in my life is to be with you. Anything else, a job or achievement, wouldn't be worthwhile unless you were there to share it with."

"Harry…"

"Let me speak," Harry continued, placing a finger over her full lips. "You made me so much more than I used to be, forgave me when I couldn't even forgive myself. If I had to choose between the world and you, then the world would have to find itself a new saviour. For without you, this life is nothing, and all the wonders of the Wizarding World are cheap parlour tricks. When I said I loved you, I really meant it, Cho. That won't change, no matter what happens or what distances separate us. So let Zhang come. If Death Eaters and friends couldn't destroy what we've made together, he certainly won't."

Rosy warmth flooded Cho's cheeks, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat as she smiled, joyous and contented. She was here, and she loved him, and she was so warm and so willing…They kissed furiously, drinking of their affection as a man dying of thirst might sup at the water of a oasis. Words were no longer necessary. Proclamations of love and desire were surplus to requirements. All that mattered was the feel of hand and lips against breast, the rejection of silk and cotton for cool air and flesh, embracing the ultimate expression of their love with a fanatic's zeal. Harry laid the young woman down beneath him, ripping away her blouse to expose her blue silk bra, heedless of the buttons that flew like shrapnel. Loving kisses teased his nipples and chest, causing him to groan, kneading her breasts with gentle hands, while she removed his belt and began enticing his growing arousal. The noise he made drew a smile from the polymath. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked, paying extra attention to the spot. Harry clumsily kicked away his jeans as they were pulled down, and Cho had to stifle a giggle at her lover's enthusiasm. "Patience, my love. I'm not going to fade away before your eyes."

"Sorry," Harry replied in a small whisper, kissing her. A hand caressed her thigh, snaking its way up and down the muscled leg, much to the young woman's delight. By this point, Harry and Cho had experienced the act of lovemaking many times, enough to familiarize themselves with each sensitive area and point of arousal on each other's bodies. Even so, each pleasured moan or sigh was treasured, each gasp cherished, particularly this night. Cho would be away for Merlin knew how long, and while she wanted to return to the castle with all haste, these things had a habit of spinning out of control. _Time to make her feel like a goddess_, Harry instructed himself, deftly reaching for the clasp of her bra. Green eyes sparkled with desire as her perfect round breasts were exposed to his sight, hardening under the cold night air. "Tell me what you want," he gently pressed her, kissing and nibbling her breasts, slowly bringing her to the heights of bliss. Cho threw her head back and moaned as he continued to lavish attention on her upper body, her hands gripping the tangled mop of his hair, hips squeezing his sides. The warmth displayed in her chocolate-brown eyes only encouraged him, and Cho screamed in pleasure as his hot breath enveloped a nipple. "Tell me."

Cho drove her lips against his; kissing him so ferociously she drew blood. Frantic hands unbuckled her belt and removed her own jeans, the kiss never breaking, more of her luscious body revealed before wanting eyes. The beautiful Ravenclaw was a landscape of curves; the gentle hills and slopes of her muscles, the high peaks of her orb-like breasts, the valley of her stomach and groin, all completed by the thick dark forest of her hair that lay shimmering against her smooth, exotic skin. "You, Harry. I need you," she gasped, baring her arched neck and smooth collarbone to his kisses. Tenderly, they removed the last articles of clothing, leaving them naked on the futon and enjoying the warmth of their bodies, the tantalizing taste of their kisses, the pleasure of bare flesh locked in their embrace. They continued like this for some time, their caresses bringing them to the point of ecstasy, but never reaching the height, just simply enjoying themselves while they still had the time.

After a while, Cho could take no more, shivering and moaning under his loving touches, the pleasure reaching a crescendo. "Harry…"

"Anxious, are we?" Harry asked, letting the girl writhe beneath him, the flash of lightning rippled over her bare skin, making her look all the more beautiful in both darkness and light. "I thought you said we'd have all night."

"Personally, I won't be able to last much longer, and you're much farther along than I am." She gracefully opened up, parting her thighs to allow Harry entrance. The Champion of Gryffindor took the opportunity with gratitude, entering her with extreme care, so as not to harm the young woman. Touched by his tender affection, Cho smiled. "Honestly, Harry, I'm not made of glass! I won't break, and I know you'd never hurt me. Go on."

"What would your parents say if they caught you like this?" Harry inquired sardonically, slowly thrusting. "What would they think of their only daughter taking a lover who they haven't even met?"

With a playful smile, the Ravenclaw beauty squirmed her hips, breaking the connection, before seizing Harry by the wrists and pinning him to the futon. The young man gasped in ecstasy as Cho rode him, and waves of pleasure came crashing down upon him, threatening to swallow him whole. He was helpless, paralyzed, entranced by her, and enjoying every minute of it, his eyes never leaving Cho's for a moment as their lovemaking progressed. Chocolate-brown orbs welled up with desire, and Harry lost control, reaching his peak seconds before his lover, twin cries echoing into the howling storm.

And then all was silent. Cho was lying down beside Harry, both exhausted from their torrid coupling, drenched in sweat. Then she spoke, wrapping her arms around the young Gryffindor. "They would hate me for it, perhaps even disown me. But it's my body, my life, and I will not accept their chains, nor will I consent to becoming a piece of property." Pursing her lips, she buried her head into the crook of his neck, letting the Gryffindor stroke her hair. "I'll be back, Harry, I promise. Don't be afraid for me and don't waste any tears. To live is to suffer, but also to hope and dream and love. Don't forget that. Never forget it."

"I won't. I promise," Harry whispered, and then they were kissing again, her strong hands roaming over his body, holding each other for what could be the last time for a long while…

* * *

The sun had only just emerged over the treetops when Cho arrived at Hogsmeade Station, last night's rainfall glistening on the cherry-red metal of the Hogwarts Express. The journey down to Hogsmeade had been done in silence; neither Harry nor Cho could find the words to say, and Blaise was canny enough to understand when to avoid intervening. The other Champions had offered to help carry Cho's luggage, and the beautiful Ravenclaw offered no objections, staring silently into the distance and clenching the hilt of her katana. "I shouldn't be gone too long," she remarked, vainly attempting to break the malaise. "Three days, at most. They'll be having my birthday party tonight and I'll be meeting Zhang then, but I should find a way to sneak out before long."

"It'll be a rough few days," Blaise remarked, levitating a suitcase as she walked. "But don't worry about us; just enjoy the party, throw a drink in his face, then storm out. If he's anything like you described, you won't have to put up much of an act, you'll be well motivated to drive him out."

"One should hope so. perhaps I'll be able to get some studying done on the train. I wonder why Professor Dumbledore wanted me to go home this way rather than Portkey?"

"Something about also getting the chance to ship supplies and Aurors elsewhere in the process, and avoiding the chance of a Portkey malfunction," Harry stated, setting her things down at her feet, the sound of the train whistle' shriek like a knife to the heart. "So…this is it, huh?"

"It is," Cho sighed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't be like that, Harry, I'll be back soon."

"And then I'll lose you again when you head off to university," he lamented, returning the gesture. "Why is there always something standing between us?"

"They may impede our way, but they can't stop us, Harry. I know it's hard, and I hate the thought of missing you when I graduate. But when I said that I loved you, I really meant it, and no distance between us will ever change that. Okay?"

Harry nodded, kissing her softly. "I feel like such a fool, whining like that in front of you while you face one of the biggest trials in your life. Forgive me?"

"Trust me, darling, if I was mad at you, you'd know it." The stream whistle shrieked once more, startling her into action. "Well, there's my ride. Goodbye, my love, I'll miss you. Just stay safe, okay?"

The young Gryffindor held her even tighter, feeling her lithe form press against him, and it psychically hurt to let her go, to let her face this challenge alone, and the pain of separation began to well up. "I will, I promise," he said, pouring all his emotion into one last kiss, savouring every last moment of contact he could while he had the chance. "Kick his arse and don't back down from him."

"I'll keep that in mind, beloved," Cho replied, giving him a longing, lingering look as she moved for the train, her luggage trailing close behind like obedient hounds following at their master's heels. Suddenly, the young woman stopped and turned, as if forgetting something, dark hair caught in the wind. "Blaise? Look after him, okay?" Looking rather flustered, the Champion of Ravenclaw boarded the train, disappeared into the white smoke, and was gone.

* * *

At the highest room of Ravenclaw Tower, Luna Lovegood clutched her head in pain, sobbing futility in the wake of the nightmare that tormented her thoughts and dreams. Her slender young body staggered around the room, colliding into walls and furniture, but she remained ignorant of the physical pain and the bruises that marred her pale skin, fingernails digging into her scalp as she tried to shut the visions out. "No, it's going all wrong!" she wailed to herself, sinking to her knees. "The fourth wasn't supposed to be like that! It wasn't supposed to happen that way!" A vial of some thick, glutinous mixture stood mockingly on the table, and Luna swept it away, shattering it against the wall. The girl sobbed, twisting her hands into bitter claws, gasping for breath. "The fourth is coming! By Rowena, how could we not _see!_ How could we not have _known!_" Luna darted for the nearest corner, pressing herself against the stone and curling up into a ball, trembling in fright, eyes burning _gold_ in the darkness. Every shadow rose up menacingly, and every thought spoke only of the horrors she had seen, the nightmare that emerged to consume her mind.

For Luna had seen much of what would pass, and much of what would come. She saw the true face of the fourth, and by the time she was discovered by a shaking second-year, Luna Lovegood had utterly retreated from the world, lost behind the barricades of her own mind and too frightened to venture into the daylight. She had seen into the heart of evil itself, and knew that if her vision came to pass, none of them would survive…

* * *

**A/N: That was the longest it's every taken to complete a chapter, and it's an experience that I hope I don't have to repeat anytime soon. I've been under some stress lately, as it's my final year of university in September, and the pressure of job-hunting and what to do after school is really building up. Excuses aside, I found that this chapter was very difficult to write, and I spent a lot of time working on sections or scenes that I eventually dropped. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed it (particularly the H/C lemon and discussion), and look forward to reading all of your reviews. I've found that they are of great help to me, both in helping me make the story better and in keeping myself motivated, so if you could take the time to write one, I would greatly appreciate it. Things are heating up now, and I'll try to post updates on a monthly basis (at the latest). I want to see the ending of the story as much as you! Thanks!**

_Next Chapter: Cho meets Zhang, Bones makes a desperate gamble, and all hell breaks loose…_


	29. Crooked World

**Chapter 29: Crooked World**

"So tell me then," Isolde von Albrecht purred, the lower half of her face drenched in blood. "What brings the Alpha of the Cabal to my domain?"

Ulric hated the idea of being in the vampire's den in Hell Pit. He hated the idea of dealing with the bloodsucking wretches in any way, shape or form, but unfortunately the situation called meeting with the nippleheads and their tart of a leader. The werewolf revolutionary had been raised on stories about the cruelty of the vampires; how they had taken to hunting lycanthropes for sport in ages past, how they had slaughtered numerous tribes in order to satisfy their bloodlust, and the old hatreds remained deeply rooted. Vampires were second only to wizards in their persecution of werewolves, a fact that he would never forget. Yet, if vampires were the lesser threat, the wizards were the former, thus necessitating a trip to his enemy's home. "Certainly not for the pleasure of your company. Tell me, Isolde, how exactly can you attract your victims now that the Ravenclaw scarred you?"

The Queen of the Gathering Dark snarled with frustration, and her numerous courtiers circled the werewolf menacingly. "Do not presume to mock me, Ulric, particularly regarding the Champion of Ravenclaw. For the injuries inflicted upon me, the brat will suffer a hundredfold agonies in return. As for my feeding habits," she said, gesturing to the dozen dead Muggles at her feet, their throats torn open, "I feast well enough. Now then, are you going to tell me why you have trespassed upon my court, or should we skip to the disembowelling?"

"You heard Voldemort's little speech during the summoning ritual."

"Of course. And I must say, the energies that emerged from the portal were rather…_invigorating_."

"Then you're probably wondering what Voldemort intends to do with us when his Crusade is complete. You've seen his preparations for war; you've heard his rhetoric about a perfect world. Care to guess if our respective peoples will have a place in it?"

"I'm not a fool, mongrel. I know full well that the Dark Lord distrusts us, and that he harbours intentions of betraying both our respective causes. He is a wizard, after all, and his kind and ours will always be at each other's throats. But so long as he aids me in bringing down the Ministry, then I shall obey his dictates."

Ulric gave a toothy smile. "So, what happens then? Presuming of course that the snake-head doesn't install a new Ministry to torment us…"

The vampire lady snarled in annoyance. "Is this some _bizarre _test of loyalty, mutt? Has the Dark Lord sent you here to probe me for information? I need not answer to a lowly mongrel such as yourself. I am the Queen of the Gathering Dark, and the night belongs to me and all my servitors. Perhaps you should seek a crippled puppy to match wits with, it would certainly be more at your level."

"It's always pride with the vampires, isn't it? They're never able to shut the hell up and listen to others for a change. Listen, you glorified streetwalker, and listen good! We both now that Voldemort won't be keeping his promises for long once he get what he wants, and the offensive he's planning is likely to mean victory for him. When that happens, you and I are simply two loose ends that he'll need to tie up, and before you can say 'fang', he'll have rounded us up to deal with along with the Muggles, and I don't need to remind you of what that will mean."

"Go on, Ulric," Isolde replied, her brown eyes narrowing dangerously. "You seem to have captured my attentions."

"If Voldemort is to bring us down, then I say we strike him _first_. When his plan has succeeded and the Ministry is no more, we must strike first before he has a chance to betray us. We must unite our forces and bring that monster down in his moment of triumph; else we might not live to see another night. What do you say? Do you have the courage to assist me with this?"

"Mayhaps."

"Mayhaps," Ulric repeated mockingly, balling his fists in anger. "We are not wizards, Isolde, and as such, their kind will never stop being a threat to us. If you value your people's survival, then you will aid me in this."

"Is that a threat?" the vampire hissed, the burns on the right side of her face stretching as she did so. "Once again, your impudence astonishes me."

"And your foolishness never ceases to. Now tell me, _whose side are you on?_"

Isolde smiled cruelly, her expression capable of chilling a dragon's heart. "Why, on the side of the victors, of course. Isn't that right, Lord Voldemort?"

To Ulric's horror, the Dark Lord himself appeared from behind Isolde's throne, his chest bare beneath open black robes, head lowered under a dark hood. The monstrous scars on his body, normally a hideous charred black, burned bright green as Voldemort calmly walked towards the treasonous werewolf, while the horde of vampires around him parted like the Red Sea. "Good evening, Ulric. Having second thoughts about our partnership?" the Dark Lord calmly asked, his blood red eyes glinting calmly under the hood. "Even after all I've done for you, and despite my _repeated_ promises to help you destroy your enemies, you can't seem to trust me. And it is a terrible shame, really. I am about to usher in Eden, but it seems that you would rather die with the old world than prosper in the new. Do you have anything to add?"

Ulric didn't waste time calling out Isolde for her betrayal. Instead the old werewolf lunged for the Dark Lord, teeth bared as he might during a hunt. The fact that he was in human form didn't seem to concern him whatsoever; he was still a lycanthrope at heart, and the urge to tear and rend his foe at close range was unstoppable. Charging, Ulric slammed into an invisible shield surrounding Voldemort and was thrown back, his robes steaming from the violent contact. Again he attacked, but this time the daemonically-enhanced wizard simply intercepted him by swiftly seizing his throat, leaving him dangling in mid-air. "I'm very disappointed in you, Ulric. Here I was, planning on letting you have everything you wanted, when you decided to betray me. How very unfortunate. Right now, my Death Eaters have begun to corral your followers, both here and across Britain. You'll be glad to know that my tests on some of your followers have been successful. With a bit of daemon's blood, we'll be able to unleash the Metamorphosis upon your people."

"Bastard!" Ulric howled, impotent tears emerging in the corners of his eyes. "My people will be free. From all of you!"

"Of course, you'd be able to fight back if you could transform at will," Voldemort suggested, his red eyes boring holes straight through Ulric's soul. "That remains difficult at the moment, but my research has gone well, and with the power of Chaos at my command, nothing is impossible. You will bow down before the might of Chaos, Ulric Jaeger. You will submit to the Prophet of War, and you will be transformed, remade and _reborn_." Warpfire burst from the Dark Lord's strong hands. "Embrace the gifts of Chaos, Ulric, or embrace the extinction of your species!"

Ulric screamed as the fire began to reshape him, while Isolde watched the scene with perverse glee. The werewolf Alpha made sure to send one last angry thought towards his old rival before the warpfire consumed him completely…

* * *

"As we have seen," Stormfury lectured in a clear, cool voice, pointing to the labels written on the chalkboard, "the Cruciatus Curse is perhaps the most horrible of the Unforgivables, yet also the least. Recalling from last week's class, why is this so?"

As expected, Hermione answered first. "Because while the Cruciatus can cause severe mental damage, it has no physiological effect on the victim."

"Well done. Ms. Zabini, elaborate."

"No physical damage is inflicted upon the victim of the Cruciatus Curse, no bleeding, no trauma to the organs or muscle. There have been a few cases of victims succumbing to strokes or blood clots, but that was mostly due to existing health problems."

Stormfury paced around the room as if musing on their responses. Not for the first time, Harry found it strange how the Shadow Hunter could fit into the role of teacher so easily. It was as if a lever had been pulled, causing the vengeful and hot-tempered warrior-mage to turn into a philosophical, patient instructor, and inwardly he admired it. After all the battles he had faced, Harry often found himself growing detached from the rigors of education, and longed for a return to semi-normalcy. Though his marks were good and his notes well-kept, there was an impatience within him, a deep stirring of his soul, trapped between the mundane nature of ordinary wizarding life and the desire for combat, yet denied both. Stormfury seemed to keep these two halves in check, and the Champion desired a similar balance. For now though, he did what he could, taking extra care with his notes so he could make a legible copy for Cho. They had studied this already, but he understood how important knowledge was for her, and a little extra review would not go amiss.

The Shadow Hunter turned, addressing the class. "So then, knowing what Ms. Granger and Zabini have told us, what then can we infer regarding the Cruciatus Curse?"

Harry raised a hand. "It can be resisted, and it's not as powerful as some might think. It's still very dangerous and definitely worth having illegal, but you can reduce its effects."

"How might you go about doing this?"

The Champion pondered the question for a moment before responding. "Well, if it doesn't hurt your body and it's all in your mind, then maybe the pain doesn't actually exist? Maybe it's just something in your head that you can fight, that you can resist. If you don't think it hurts you, then maybe it doesn't?"

"Excellent. Twenty points to Gryffindor and another ten to Slytherin. Yes, while the Cruciatus Curse is one of the vilest spells ever conceived, its fatal flaw is the fact that it does not physically hurt the target. It was designed this way so that a skilled torturer might keep his subject alive for longer periods of time, allowing him to extract the most information. But it can be resisted, it can be fought, and a strong mind can reduce the pain inflicted. Now then, for next week, have your essays on the rise of your chosen Dark Lord completed. Remember, they are six feet long minimum," he reminded them, oblivious to the groans from the assembled students. "And keep in mind that critically analysing their methods and motivations are more important than simply reiterating their history, and I will be grading them as such!"

Dismissed thusly, the students began to pack up their bags and leave. "Will you be ready for the final exams?" Hermione posed to Harry, Blaise and Ron, throwing her prized messenger bag over her shoulder. "I can't believe it, really, soon we'll be in our final year!"

"Yeah, and then we'll have our N.E. to deal with," Ron groused. "Honestly, 'Mione, do you really enjoy school so much that you're excited for that?"

"It's a challenge, Ron, nothing to be frightened of. And it's a very important test, after all. Many of our future career opportunities will be dependent on it. If you're going to become an Auror, that's very important."

"Nah, bugger that. The twins say they'll have a place in the shop for me. At least until my Quidditch career gets rolling. Harry's the potential Auror here, so why don't you remind him about the test?"

Harry chuckled dryly. "Honestly, Ron, after this war is over, I plan on sleeping for about a full year. Being an Auror would be cool, but after all that's happened, part of me wants something a little quieter. What about you, Blaise?"

"For the past few summers, I've worked at a local Muggle radio station. Maybe there's a place there for me once I graduate."

"You won't stay in the Wizarding World?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Blaise snorted in disdain. "I'm perfectly capable of operating in both worlds, Weasley, but in all honesty, the Muggle one just seems to have more opportunities for me, and less of this apathy and decay that seems to be part and parcel of the Wizarding one. Let's face it, wizards haven't evolved or developed much since the days of the Founders. I just get the feeling that we're dying, and I don't want to be a part of that any more than necessary. So yeah, I'd live in the Muggle world and just use my magic privately." Her deep blue eyes caught Ron's disdainful expression and glared dangerously in response. "Just because I won't go to a Quidditch game every weekend or consider the Weasley twins to be the height of comedy doesn't make me any less of a witch, Weasley."

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Sounds like an interesting career, Blaise," Harry said, eager to direct the conversation away from Ron and the Champion's sniping at one another. He hadn't experienced much in the way of radio over his childhood, but the scraps of music and discussion he heard interested him. "What sort of content will you play?"

Blaise beamed at Harry's interest in her plans, continuing, "Some music, but mostly issues of politics and news. I want those in power to tremble in fear at my voice, and I want to be a check and balance against the power-hungry and corrupt. If my time at Hogwarts has taught me anything, it's that people like those have to be confronted. So yeah, next year I'll do my N.E., and then I'll take my place as crusading radio host. After all, someone has to do it, right?"

"And I couldn't think of anyone better," Harry answered, drawing a contented smile from the Champion of Slytherin. "So, any plans for tonight?"

"Well, I'm going to have some flight time...What?" he asked a stern looking Hermione, her foot tapping impatiently. "Oh, yeah, right, me and 'Mione have something going on."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "If you'll excuse me, Harry, I have to knock some sense into my boyfriend. Good day!" With a bullet's speed, Hermione's hand flew over to Ron's right ear, and Harry and Blaise looked as she neigh-dragged him into the outer hallways, the boy's face registering his obvious discomfort. "Ronald Weasley, when I've through with you..."

"Poor fellow," Blaise remarked, laughing to herself. "It's a strange day when I find myself sympathizing with Weasley there. Are they usually like this?"

"Recently, they've been acting a lot more hostile to one another. Shame, really. I thought that after nearly six whole years of argument that they might have worked out their differences by now. I mean, it took a bit for Cho and I to work through all our problems and issues with one another, but if you think about it, that's made our relationship even stronger. With those two, it's like talking to a brick wall sometimes."

"It's funny..."

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the smirk emblazoning Blaise's lips.

Blue eyes turned towards him. "Normally, you emulate a lost puppy whenever you and Cho are apart and her name comes up, but you seem to be handling yourself quite well today. Did something happen between you two?"

"Nothing bad, if that's what you think," Harry explained, meeting Blaise's stride. "Cho and I talked it over before we left, and I'm not worried about what's going to happen with her and her parents. Well, okay, I'm a little worried, but I honestly don't think that Cho will have any problems with them. There's nothing that I can do to help her from here, and since I don't know her parents, I probably couldn't do all that much even if I was there. Cho is capable of handling herself, and she'll stick to her wands when she needs to. She'll be back in a day or two, and then we can put this whole Zhang mess behind us. Why should I worry?"

"That's actually really mature of you, Harry. Good to see that you're figuring out when to hold on and when to let go," Blaise stated, rubbing a stray crumb from the corner of her eye.

"I kinda have to, since Cho's graduating this year. We'll be staying in a relationship, but I'll have to accept the distance sooner or later, right?" Harry noticed the fatigued look his friend was currently sporting. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just tired," the Slytherin replied, giving a small yawn. "Haven't been sleeping well lately. Been thinking about my mother, and how she's dealing with the war. Dumbledore told me that she's under Order protection, but I can't help thinking that after all the arse I've kicked, the Death Eaters might have it out of her. As if marrying a Muggle wasn't enough!"

"But I thought your mother kept your blood status a secret, that you had worked out some way of disguising your Muggle-born heritage?"

"We did, but now that I'm more of a high-profile figure, Voldemort's probably figured it out by now!" she snapped, massaging her temples. "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. It just that-"

"You've been pushing yourself hard lately, and you're worried for those you care about. Same here," Harry stated. "It's been going around lately, especially with what happened to Luna."

"Any change in her condition?" Blaise inquired.

Harry shook his head. "No, she's still in that coma and we have no idea when she'll come out of it. From what I saw in Ravenclaw Tower, she took more warpstone in one sitting than I'd seen Avalon take in five. And we still have no idea why she took it, or how she got her hands on it anyway!"

"It's a telepathic stimulant, right? Maybe she felt that there was something in the future she needed to see, not matter the cost. I wonder what if Luna showed any signs of being a prospective Seer before?"

"An interesting angle to consider. After I talk to Neville, I'll see what Professor Trelawney has to say on the matter. I'd rather not talk to her, but she's the only voice of authority on these things we have at the moment."

"I was wondering where Neville might be, he didn't show up in class after all. When you see him, will you send him my regards? I'll send the notes from class over to Cho, I doubt she'll need them, but just to make sure she doesn't miss a beat."

"Appreciate it, Blaise. Guess I'll see you tomorrow, then, huh?"

Blaise smiled. "Something like that. Good night, Mister Potter."

"Night, Blaise," Harry replied, watching her go. Musing for a moment why she seemed so concerned about Neville and Luna, the young Champion made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. If he had calculated the times right, then Cho should have left the Hogwarts Express by now...

* * *

A scholar of considerable skill and dedication, Cho Chang hated disruptions to her academic life. Quidditch, Harry and her combat training were all well and good, but once she set herself to completing some schoolwork or reading a book of interest, she liked to complete it before doing anything else, and despised any disturbances, no matter how well intentioned. So, by the time she left the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross and Apparated to the shielded entrances to Wizarding Limehouse, the Ravenclaw was quite cross at her parents for demanding her presence right before the N.E.W.T. crunch began. She had gotten most of her assignments done beforehand, and had gotten plenty of reading done on the ride home, but resented having to deal with the extra pressure on their behalf. Even Harry knew how much of a priority she put on her scholarship, and it pained her to realize that her parents showed no such considerations.

Yet, for all her grumblings, it was good to be home again. Sharp ears listened intently to a hundred different conversations in her second tongue, while the sharp tang of spices wafted through market stalls and alleyways, heady and aromatic. Much like Diagon Alley, Wizarding Limehouse was segregated from the Muggle areas of London by numerous protective enhancements and charms, allowing the community to exist in peace, shielded from Muggle eyes. The district had been founded during the first great wave of Chinese immigration to Britain, and its first inhabitants swiftly found the racist attitudes held by British Muggles also extended to their wizarding counterparts, forcing them to join together for mutual security and commerce. Centuries had passed, yet the community still maintained their relative seclusion from their neighbours, as well as preserving their distinct language and architectural style. Katana slung at her side, bags shrunk and hoisted over her shoulder, and wand in the holster, the Champion took her time as she walked towards her parent's considerable estate. Shopkeepers and young children greeted her from the sidewalk, and she took the time to respond, content in this instant to forget about Zhang and her parents and _everything_, letting her senses dwell in the moment. The comforting sensation fell over her like mist over a tranquil valley, and Cho allowed herself to enjoy it.

Then someone caught her eye, a young Caucasian man, at least ten years older than she was, quite distinct from the marketgoers with his bright-red hair tied up in a ponytail, and his wiry, gangling gait. With a smile, Cho realized who it was. "Bill!"

"Hello again, Cho," the eldest Weasley son greeted her, setting aside the shopping bags for the moment. "How are you doing?"

"Decent, all things considering. What are you doing here? Not that I'm displeased, of course, but it's just so rare to see outsiders in Wizarding Limehouse. Is it a duty with the group, or did you just like the neighbourhood?"

Bill smiled. "Do the two have to be mutually exclusive?" he asked, getting a laugh from the girl. Taking up his bags once more, he walked alongside her, keeping his voice low so as to thwart any spies who might be listening in. A hand gripped her arm, and Cho felt his wand brush her abdomen. "What's your Patronus?"

The girl had expected the question, and answered promptly. "A swan, of course." Cho fixed the older man with a hard stare. "And I'm afraid I don't know your Patronus, so you'll have to ask me something else," she whispered.

Bill chuckled to himself. "No need. Take a look at this." Releasing her for a moment, the Order volunteer unbuttoned his right cufflink and pulled back his shirt to expose the wrist. Cho stared in wonder as a luminous phoenix shape burned cold against his flesh, before fading out and leaving only a pale outline. Under his watchful eye, Cho caressed the Mark, feeling the Light energies bound into its matrix responding to her presence. "Think any Death Eater could wear something like this?"

"Absolutely not," Cho answered, tracing the symbol one last time before withdrawing. "When did the group get these? It must have taken you some time to create the spell, particularly in order to establish the synergistic bonds between the Mark and the wearer."

"Several months, actually. We only just began applying them to the group's members about six weeks ago. If you thought our security was tight before, think again. Once the Phoenix Mark has been applied, disloyalty and maybe even treason towards the group can be found and stopped before it cripples the entire Order." Cho gave Bill a worried look, causing him to add: "It doesn't exactly control you or your thoughts. But if you do have intentions of betraying the Order, then the Mark lets Dumbledore know."

Cho frowned at this prospect. Strategically, it was a good idea, as it made sure that the Order members could be trusted. All the same, she didn't trust Dumbledore to the extent that many in the Wizarding World did, and for the old man to control yet another source of power left a sour feeling in her gut. Shoving that thought aside for the moment, Cho turned to the matter at hand. "Now that we can both confirm our identities, I must again ask: what are you doing here, Bill? Are you living here, and for how long?"

"Dumbledore has deployed a squad of the Order to Wizarding Limehouse in order to keep your family safe. Intimidation and threatening loved ones was a key tactic used by Voldemort in the last war, and given how much damage you've done to his forces, we felt that he might take the opportunity to get some leverage over you."

"And has he?"

Bill sighed. "No, but your old man ain't making our job any easier, that's for sure. We offered to install permanent anti-Apparation wards over the grounds and secure the Floo network, but he refused to let us. He wouldn't even let us put in Wards of Hostile Intent to alert us to any Death Eaters on the premises. No offense, Cho, but your father is a real hardarse. And now, because of his stubbornness, the squad and I have to work doubly hard to make up for the lack of defences."

The Ravenclaw squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "That sounds like my father alright. He's incredibly bullheaded at times, and when he sets his mind on something, he rarely changes it. I'm sorry you've had to put up with this extra burden on the behalf of myself and my family, Bill. I'll try talking to my father tonight about being more cooperative."

"Hey, it's not your fault, Cho, and at the very least, it keeps me away from the Burrow. The lack of defences hasn't been an issue so far, but I don't like taking chances, especially since Harry will skin me for a rug if something were to happen to you."

Cho laughed. "Bill Weasley, the wild and adventurous Cursebreaker of Gringotts. When did you become so responsible?"

The eldest of the Weasley sons shrugged, scratching his head as he considered his answer. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure. As a Cursebreaker, I was responsible to no one but myself and the management at Gringotts, and I didn't have to put anyone else in harm's way. Maybe it's just my new duties with the group, or the engagement that's making me so cautious."

"Whatever the reason, it's not such a bad thing, given how the war is going. How is Fleur?"

At the mention of Fleur, Bill gave a cocky smile. "Beautiful, happy, and three weeks pregnant," he said, seeing Cho's hands fly over her mouth in shock. "Just another reason to be responsible, I guess. A kid has to grow up with parents, after all, and I intend on seeing this thing through. Of course now, Mum's making a big fuss about it, but that's just who she is, I guess."

"Well, congratulations Bill! I'm very happy for both of you. I assume that the wedding is still planned for this summer?"

"Yeah, though at the rate my relationship with Mum is deteriorating, it will end up being a simple service. Mum and I had a great big row about it, but such is life. And how are you and Harry doing?"

"Good, very good," Cho replied, a slight blush suffusing her cheeks. "It's a shame that all this nonsense with Zhang has to happen, but we'll deal with it. Harry and I have come too far and conquered too many of our personal demons to let no outsider interfere in our relationship. Hopefully, tonight I'll be able to make that clear to both Zhang and my parents."

"Sounds like a plan, kid. Listen, Fleur's probably wondering what's taking me, so I'll see you around. Good luck tonight, huh?"

"Of course. And thank you," the young woman said, watching with a wistful smile as Bill departed, heading back to home and lover. _It's good to see him so happy, despite the war and all his troubles_, Cho thought to herself, continuing towards her parent's estate. Admittedly, she wasn't all that close to Bill, but from what she had seen, he didn't exactly seem like the type to settle down and raise a family. Perhaps the war had changed his priorities, grounded him in a way, for good or for ill. And Fleur? From what she had seen, the fight against Voldemort has forced her to become more confident with her magic, more willing to take risks.

And what about her? How would the Cho Chang of years past, somewhat shy, hesitant and lonely, consider the more confident and determined young woman she was now? Could her younger self, broken by Cedric's death and unable to move past, even communicate on the same level? Cho stopped herself, halting that ridiculous train of thought in its tracks. Intelligence, compassion, kindness, an inquisitive nature; these were the values instilled in her, and these were the values she possessed to this day. Cedric's death and the war had simply tempered the mix with fire and steel. _Maybe Cedric dying even made me a better person_, Cho thought to herself, a horrifying idea on the surface but possibly one with merit. She had discussed fighting personal demons with Bill. Perhaps the death of her first love had finally forced her to confront the greatest of her all inner foes; her own insecurity. _Enough of such things_, Cho told herself, quickening her pace. _Let's just get this done and over with, so I can go back to doing something important!_

* * *

"So then, Mister Snape," Minister Bones said, her right eye peering suspiciously through the monocle she always wore. "Tell us about this base Voldemort has established."

Even as Cho approached the palatial gates of her family's home, Harry and Blaise were occupied with another matter, namely a strategy session with the rest of the commanders of Light-aligned forces in Britain. The meeting had been called on short notice, and Severus Snape wasted no time in addressing the assembled council. "Voldemort is withdrawing from his main base, an old coal mine several kilometres northeast of Shorncliffe. The mine was abandoned by the Muggles ten years ago, and since this war began, the Dark Lord has reclaimed it as his main base of operations. The mine is well-protected by a series of defensive wards and anti-Apparation spells, but today, it has become vulnerable now that Voldemort has largely deserted the place."

"Why?" Blaise asked. "I mean, why abandon his main base? As far as I know, we didn't even know this place existed before five minutes ago, and it'd be a lot of hassle shipping up all his troops and supplies to a new position. Why pull out?"

"Voldemort must know that we are gaining the initiative," Stormfury commented, arms folded tightly about him. "Each day, the Ministry makes greater progress in securing the support of foreign governments, and every week, more fighters from abroad come to assist the Aurors, Shadow Hunters included. Perhaps he felt that his position would eventually be discovered and overrun if this continued."

The newcomer to their gathering nodded her head, the sharp eyes of a hunter glancing at the other participants, as if gauging their strengths and weaknesses. Maryam Qadir was the Captain of the Saladin Legion, the premier soldiers of the Mesopotamian Circle, the state that governed the wizarding sections of the Arab world. Since arriving in England several months before, Qadir and the Legion had seen more than their share of the fighting, that and her status as head of the Legion justifying her place at the table. "That may be true. But if he is pulling his forces from this stronghold, where are they to be relocated? The Death Eaters and the groups they have inspired have diffused their forces in urban environments and established cells of warriors throughout England before. If Voldemort succeeds in doing this on a much larger scale, then it will be difficult to locate and destroy them all," she cautioned in near-perfect English.

"I believe that his choice of stronghold was due less to tactical concerns, and more due to the presence of the Chaos Stones buried within the mine," Snape elaborated, describing the insane ritual Voldemort had undertaken, as well as the eight arcane monoliths he had used to do so.

When he was done, it took Harry every part of willpower he had not to gasp at his revelations. _How are we going to defeat him now?_ he mused inwardly, forcing himself to remain calm. "Wait a second. You said the ritual didn't work? Then what was it supposed to do?"

Snape gave his usual sneer at Harry's question, but responded nonetheless. "Voldemort had intended on using the Chaos Stones to bring through Kharaidon, one of the daemonlords we have heard about. In return for granting the creature access to Earth, it would grant immortality to the Dark Lord. Beyond that, I'm not sure. Voldemort has kept me at arms' length for the most part, so I cannot tell you more."

At the mention of the daemonlord's name, Stormfury gripped the hilt of his sword with such force that the wood began to creak. "Do you recognize this name, Daelin?" asked Dumbledore, looking down at the Shadow Hunter along his long nose.

"I do. Kharaidon is the God of War amongst the daemonlords. His presence as an ally of Voldemort confirms our worst fears; that the Dark Lord has been consorting with these creatures intensively and had aligned his fortunes with theirs. We are fortunate then that the ritual was not successful, for the mere entrance of Kharaidon onto this world would result in cataclysmic devastation." He turned to Snape then, blue eyes hard and cold. "What prevented him from being successful?"

"Apparently, not enough magical power to fuel the portal," Snape suggested, his jaw tingeing in memory of the blow Stormfury had inflicted upon him. "From what I have learned, Voldemort is relocating the bulk of his forces to an old castle in Wales built upon several smaller lay lines, with the Chaos Stones to follow. There, he hopes that the additional magical energies present will cause the portal to stabilize. At present, most of his troops are at this castle, but the Chaos Stones themselves are still within the Hell Pit under a reasonably small guard led by Voldemort himself. They are vulnerable, and the Dark Lord has left himself upon to attack."

"For how long?" Bones asked.

"Four, five hours at the most," Snape responded quickly, anticipating the question. "It's a small window, I realize, but I was unfortunately not able to return any sooner with the Dark Lord's eyes watching me. Right now, Voldemort is waiting for his dragons to arrive to fly the Stones towards his new base. We may never get as good an opportunity as this to strike."

Stormfury stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. "What is the composition of his forces within Hell Pit at the moment?"

The Potions Master thought for a moment. "No more than a hundred active Death Eaters present. The vampires and werewolves have already been sent out, as have most of the giants. The Death Eaters have been gathering up corpses lately for use by their necromancers, but most of these have been shipped to the castle and none should remain by the time we assault. At present, Hell Pit has been stripped to the bones."

"Sounds vulnerable," Harry stated.

"Perhaps even too vulnerable," Blaise questioned sceptically. "Voldemort must have _some _defences in place against this sort of thing! It seems too tempting a target."

"Anti-Apparation wards extend up to a full mile in every direction, while defensive spells to ensure against direct attack, though without the Death Eaters to maintain them, the latter will have been weakened enough that we could launch such an assault," Snape reiterated. "Believe me, Miss Zabini, when I say that I would not been here suggesting an attack if I did not think it to be capable of success. Moreover, it is a genuine withdrawal, and I find the possibility of a trap unlikely. Voldemort has been obsessing over the Chaos Stones, and this inattention to the rest of his plans and forces in clear to see, and has delayed the Death Eater withdrawal."

Madam Bones nodded, addressing the gathered conclave. "There is indeed a risk here, but the rewards are worthwhile. I intend of taking advantage of this opportunity while the window is still open. The Aurors will assault Hell Pit, what about the rest of you? It will require the bulk of our forces to defeat him, but I am confident that together, we can destroy Voldemort once and for all."

"I can promise the support of the Order, Minister Bones," Dumbledore answered. "But I cannot commit all of them, for even if Riddle is killed, the remaining Death Eaters will surely attempt to take their revenge upon the citizens, and someone must be there to defend them."

"I'll leave a few companies behind to maintain public safety, but I want that bastard dead, Dumbledore. I don't care how many it takes, if we can cut off the serpent's head here, then we can cripple the Death Eaters and perhaps even end the war."

"The Shadow Hunters will stand with you, Minister," Stormfury told her, a nasty smile dawning on his face, the kind that usually signalled one of his infamous battle-rages. "All those of my order who fight in Great Britain will come with you to Hell Pit. The battle will be fierce, but the cause just and the honour beyond measure. We will come."

Qadir nodded in affirmation. "The Saladin Legion will also support your attack, Madam Minister. I can commit seventy of my fighters to the assault, the rest are either too wounded to participate or are left guarding specific targets."

"The Ministry of Magic is grateful to the Mesopotamian Circle for all your efforts in aiding us, Captain Qadir. Any soldiers you could spare would be appreciated," Bones replied diplomatically, before turning her attentions towards the Champions. "And what about the two of you? Will you join us in this mission?"

"I won't speak for Blaise, Minister, but I'd certainly be happy to help you guys out. _If_ Snape's info is true, then you will need the extra help. Besides, this fight has been a long time coming and if I'm not willing to face Voldemort myself, then who will?"

The willowy Slytherin jumped right in, entirely unafraid and unwilling to miss such a battle. "Count me in as well. Let's put an end to this monster!"

Bones frowned for a moment, recalling that there had been _three_ Champions in their last meeting. "And where is Miss Chang? I had assumed that she would be present and prepared for the battle as well."

"Cho is at her parent's house for her birthday tonight," Harry explained, shrinking back slightly in the face of Bones' bewildered and somewhat angry stare. "It wasn't exactly her idea, to be sure. Let's tell her about the attack, and I'm sure that she'll be ready to come as well, party or no party."

"There is simply no time!" Snape roared, rather vehemently in Harry's admittedly subjective opinion. "The Dark Lord's forces are packing up, and soon Voldemort and the Chaos Stones will be out of our grasp. I f we are to succeed, then we must strike now!"

Bones adjusted her monocle as she considered the issue. "I'm inclined to agree with Mister Snape here, Mister Potter. It will be trouble enough rallying our own forces without tipping off Voldemort to our plans without bringing in Miss Chang from her own birthday party. The success of this attack will depend upon surprise, and one intercepted letter or Floo transmission could spell the death of us. I'm sorry, but Miss Chang will have to remain behind. We'll take what forces we can rally together quickly and then head out, but if the daughter of a prominent businessman and a major figure in the forces of Light herself suddenly abandons her birthday party without warning, then eyebrows will be raised and the operation may be compromised."

"Minister..."

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but my decision is final. Headmaster Dumbledore, Captain Qadir, Praetor Stormfury, I will trust that you will have your forces ready to move out within the hour. Mister Snape, do you have a rally point from which we can attack Hell Pit?"

"Here," Snape said, pointing to a large map detailing the area around the mine. Hell Pit had been rendered Unplottable by the Death Eaters, but a few subtle modifications he had made to its defences left the mine visible upon the chart. "It's a large clearing within the forests near the mine, about a mile from the main entrance. It's far enough away that the sentries do not travel there, and will be perfect for our needs."

"Then it's settled. One hour, ladies and gentlemen, so move quickly. Mister Potter, Miss Zabini, I expect to see you there," Bones ordered coldly as she gathered up her cloak. "Auror-Captain Tonks will be your liaison officer with you on the ground, and will help to coordinate the attack with your respective forces. Will she be acceptable?" she asked, receiving nods all around in response. "Good. I must return to the Ministry now, but good luck. If you are successful, then the wizarding world might know peace by the break of dawn tomorrow."

When the Minister had left, Harry turned towards the others, exploding, "She has the guts to stand here and tell me that Cho should get the chance to fight, all the while she's going to lounge back in her office at the Ministry? Unbelievable!" Inwardly, Harry burned at the chance to end Voldemort's life forever, but a note of caution remained. "It's a mistake to leave Cho behind. We're going to hit the heart of the Death Eaters, and we'll need all the magic we can get. Cho should be here."

It took all of his self-restraint to keep from blasting Snape into atoms as the Potions Master replied, "My apologies then that your amorous advances will have to be cut short, Potter. Perhaps Miss Zabini here can offer some small comforts to you." Snape's dark eyes flickered, and there was no confusion over what he meant. Before Harry could lunge at his tormentor, Snape turned to Dumbledore, saying, "I must prepare some potions for our troops going forward, Headmaster. If you will excuse me..."

"I would have you join our forces in their assault, Severus," Dumbledore interjected, seemingly oblivious to Snape's shocked expression. "There may be many Dark artefacts scattered throughout Voldemort's lair, and they will need someone who can identify and secure them safely."

"Headmaster!" Snape began to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand and the Potion Master's voice died away even as his lips continued moving. Shooting the Silenced professor a withering glare, Dumbledore turned to Harry, the infuriating twinkle in his eyes ever-present. "Harry, you would be averse to allowing Professor Snape to join you in your attack?"

"As long as he promises to behave himself, then sure, he can come," Harry replied. "About time he did something useful."

Snape's eyes were murderous as he tracked Harry and Blaise's departure, and immediately upon Dumbledore lifting the Silencing Charm from him, he could not contain his temper any longer. "Damn that foolish boy, Dumbledore! I'm not going to stand for his insolence any longer! Something useful? I have sworn my life to the Order's cause and the death of Voldemort, and that strutting peacock of a wasteful considers that nothing!" The Potions Master was close to frothing at the mouth by this point, Harry's words having opened up the old wounds left by his father and Black. "I swear to you, Dumbledore, when this is all over, that boy will regret ever stepping foot in Hogwarts. I don't care if he is the Boy Who lived or not, I will not suffer this disrespect any longer!"

"Severus!" Dumbledore boomed, putting an end to his rant. "I am confident in Mister Potter's abilities to succeed in his mission, just as I am grateful for all the good service you have done to the Order. As for the matter of respect, Harry has mine, while you are rapidly losing it. Do not think that you have repaid your debt to society or to me, Severus Snape. Go to fight alongside the Order. Do as I have instructed you, and you will regain the honour you lost when you joined the Death Eaters."

"And after all I've done..." Snape hissed. "After all the sleepless nights, all the times I endured the Dark Lord's presence to retrieve information for you, all the times I risked my life so that I might bring Lily's killer to his end, am I still to be treated like some medieval vassal. Like some dog that you can order around as you please? And what you've asked-"

Dumbledore gave a pleasant smile, and Snape resisted the urge to hit him. "You have been a most valued ally to me, Severus, and I wish that your life had more reflected the goodness I see in you. Yet this war is about to reach its climax, and I must ensure that everyone plays their part in Voldemort's defeat. Carry out the instructions I have given you, Severus, for they are critical to the outcome of this war. Good evening." And with that, Dumbledore put quill to parchment and did not say another word.

* * *

"So that's the situation," Harry said, finishing up his briefing for the leaders of the Army of the Marauders. The Inner Circle had definitely seen better days. With Cho absent and Luna still unresponsive, gaps had emerged in the strategic planning and leadership of the Army, and as much as Katie Bell and Hannah Abbott tried to fill them, they still remained. Daphne Greengrass, who had proven to be vital in the Army's rout of the Brotherhood, joined in as well, as she would take command of the Infiltrators while Blaise joined the attack on Hell Pit. Harry would trust each of them with his life and the safety of Hogwarts, and tonight, he would ask them just that. "Dumbledore and Minister Bones think that we'll be able to end this war tonight, and as much as I want to believe them, we have to be prepared for the worst."

"What do you need from us, mate?" Ron asked, excited at the idea of finally defeating Voldemort. "You want the Army to come and help out?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not willing to risk all of your lives in there, Ron. From what Snape said, not that he's always right, this place is Voldemort's headquarters, and while most of his forces won't be there, there will be enough to cause trouble. I won't have you all get killed going into his home turf."

"So, you expect us to cool our heels then, and just sit by, waiting for you to return?" Ginny demanded petulantly, quite unlike the squad leader she was. "Harry, we joined the Army to help fight Voldemort and protect this school. Don't ask us to turn our backs now."

"I don't plan to, Ginny," Harry answered, fixing each man or woman present with a hard glare. He was exceptionally proud of them, for all their hard work and training over the past school year. They were the best of the Marauders, but now he would ask them to obey the hardest order he had ever given; the order to stay behind. "You're right; the Army of the Marauders has been assembled to help protect the school, so that's what you'll do. As of this moment, the entire Army is on alert, and will start patrolling the grounds and the castle itself for any signs of Death Eater activity. Stormfury is pulling every Shadow Hunter in England off to fight, so there will just be you and the squad of Aurors here to protect the castle. Let's send two-person teams on set patrol routes throughout Hogwarts, and have a squad in reserve in case anything big does break out. Sound fair to everyone?"

Susan Bones spoke up. "What about having separate watches? At any one point, we'd have some of the Army resting and the others out on patrol. That would reduce fatigue, and those resting could easily be woken up in case of an emergency."

"Not a bad idea," Hermione chimed in. "After all, we've all had a full day of school behind us. Cutting it down to two shifts will keep us rested and alert."

Others in the Inner Circle gave their agreement, and Harry turned to the one member who had not spoken; a rather lonely figure who cradled his head in thick hands. "What do you think, Neville? Two watches sound alright to you?"

A moment passed, and every eye turned on the leader of the Indefatigable. "I'll take first watch. Heck, I'll take every watch you can give me, Harry. I'm up for it." His voice sounded pained, and everyone present knew that Luna's condition had deeply unsettled him, Neville's determined reserve beginning to crack thanks to this latest tragedy. Harry made a mental note to talk to him afterwards.

A schedule was quickly devised, the watches set and the various squads and commanders given their orders. As the group prepared to go about their business, Harry gave some final, chilling words for them to consider. "If the worst happens, and we die tonight, then the rest of you have to keep fighting. We can't stop until Voldemort is beaten, nothing else matters. Hermione, Ron, you're the charge of the Army until we return, but if we don't, it's up to you to finish this." The Champion held up his hands as if to forestall the inevitable protests. "We have to be prepared for that. Understood?"

"You won't fail, Harry," Hermione reassured him. "We'll keep Hogwarts safe tonight, I promise."

The meeting was adjourned, and the officers quickly left to mobilize their troops. "Stay with me a moment, Neville," Harry asked, ushering his friend to one side. "Are you going to be okay? You and Luna are pretty close, and I need to know that her condition won't put you off of your game."

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing regarding Cho," Neville replied with a humourless smile. "Don't worry, Harry, I'm not an infant. You want me to guard the castle, I can do that. You want me to fight the Death Eaters, I can do that. It'll keep my mind off her, to be honest."

"Don't worry, Neville, we'll find some way to help her. Between the lot of us, I'm sure we ca-"

"Don't bloody patronize me!" came Neville's bitter retort, and Harry's expression reflected shock as the Gryffindor turned on him. "We still have no bloody idea how to help Luna, and without your psychic teacher around, she's only going to get worse! You're off fighting Voldemort without us, Cho's at her bloody birthday party, and Dumbledore just don't care!" The Gryffindor checked himself, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'm sorry, Harry, it's just..."

"I know, Neville, I know. I just need you sharp out there tonight, okay? It's a lot to ask when all this is going on, but I know you can do it."

Neville nodded, composing himself. "Yeah, I can handle it, Harry. I can. You got my word on that."

"And that's all I need, Neville. Good luck tonight."

"You too, Harry. I appreciate it." The Gryffindor tripped over his words, as if he was trying to say something more, but froze up and exited.

_Poor Neville_, Harry considered as he leaned back against the wall and breathed a sigh of regret. Neville had come so far in the past year, and he hated to see a good friend suffer like that, particularly given the demands of leadership placed upon him. Still, there was little Harry could do about it. The host of the Light had nearly assembled, and he could not spend any time soothing the hurts of his friends, regardless of how much he wished so. Adjusting his dragon-hide battle robes, the Champion of Gryffindor moved to leave, only to stop dead at the of Ginny barring the doorway. "What is it, Ginny? It's about time for me to go, so if you need something, try and make it quick, okay?"

"I'm coming with you," Ginny stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as if daring Harry to object. "I'm a good fighter, and you'll need the best if you're going to kill Voldemort."

"Ginny, I told you all this before..." Harry began.

The scarlet-locked girl cut him off sharply. "You don't get it, do you? After what he did to me, after everything that's happened, I have to fight him! I have to be there when you bring him down, Harry, I just have to! Parvati can lead my squad, but I'm going, and that's final."

"No, Ginny, it's _not_ final," Harry snapped, watching her face redden in anger. "I need you here tonight, and so do your troops. You're a squad leader, you can't just run out on them because of your personal concerns. Listen, I know what you're going through, and I understand why you want to bring him down, but I told the others that the Army is for defending the school. If I bring you, I'll have to bring everyone, and that would leave the place exposed. The students need you here."

"Bullocks!" came the retort. "We have plenty of people here, Harry. Besides, if you are so concerned about having squad leaders here, then why are Cho and Blaise gone, huh?"

Harry bristled at her accusation, knowing she had a point but damned if he would let it show. "Blaise goes with me because she's a Champion, and Cho is gone because she must. Believe me, if she knew, she would be with us."

"And the fact that you're sleeping with one of them has nothing to do with it. Right."

"Ginny..."

"I need to do this, Harry. It's more important than you realize."

Harry shook his head. "No, Ginny. Stay here and lead the Hellions."

"But-"

"That's an order, Ginny!" Harry barked, watching with a measure of shame as she shrunk back in the face of his rebuke. "Let me make this perfectly clear; you have a duty to your troops and a duty to me, and you will do that duty by staying here and making sure Hogwarts is safe. And if that's too much trouble for you, then kindly say so, and I'll have someone else more suitable lead your squad. Clear?"

The anger subsided, and all was silent. Then Ginny spoke, tears springing, and her voice trembled with shame and rage. "You're a fool, Harry Potter, and she's a fool for loving you. You will regret this." Turning on her heel, the girl stormed out. Harry watched her go, as much disappointed with himself as with her. Like Neville, this would all have to be put aside. Battle called, and Harry could not refuse.

* * *

Cho Chang was bored, and dreadfully so. The lavish gardens and sitting rooms of her parent's estate were teeming with guests, and the buzz of a hundred conversations reached her ears, yet not one of them appealed to the unhappy eighteen-year old, flowing around her like water through the rocks. It was the usual pureblood politicking and gossip, with not a mention made to the development of new spells, the war, Quidditch or a good book. Taking the well-wishes and congratulations of friends and relatives in polite, if distant stride, the Champion of Ravenclaw was simply too tense and nervous to enjoy herself, and not even the tall glass of rich red wine in her hand worked to soothe her psyche. "Calm down, daughter," the slender Mrs. Song Chang told her shaky offspring, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Zhang will be here soon, and then you'll get the chance to finally meet him in person. Please, do relax. Enjoy yourself! You're only eighteen once, my dear, so take the time to treasure it." Beaming with pride, the older woman cast a maternal glance at her daughter. "You look wonderful tonight."

"Thank you, mother," Cho replied obediently, remarking inwardly that in her final statement, her mother was accurate. The fine blue silk qipao hugged her athletic figure possessively, and was made from the finest silks available, while a professional hair-dresser had arranged her raven locks in the most stylish of pureblood fashions. Nothing was too good for his daughter, Han Chang had remarked, especially for her eighteenth birthday, and the old businessman could not resist showing off her beauty to his associates and family relations. Cho, meanwhile, took it all in stride. Once she turned in for the night, her hair would come down and she would slip into something a bit more practical, but for the moment, she was content.

"My daughter, crown jewel of my life!" Han had crowed when the girl came down from her room, dressed and pampered, perfect lips painted with scarlet. "It is a great day for her, and for my family. Cho is eighteen today, and has firmly stepped on the path of womanhood. Offer her your thanks and congratulations, especially since she will be meeting her intended tonight as well. To you, Cho! I am very proud of you, and may all your years afterwards be happy ones."

It had been a sincere statement of joy and pride, and Cho appreciated the fact that her parents wished only the best for her. But the fact remained that her engagement to Zhang had not taken her feelings into account, and that Zhang remained unworthy of her affections. It was a hard truth for them to consider, but it _was_ the truth, and it had to be told. Now, Cho was rallying the courage to tell her parents this. It wasn't an easy thing; _planning_ to defy one's parents and actually doing it were like night and day, and the situation was not made any less tense by the plethora of aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, business relations, old childhood friends and other guests who approached her to remark on her beauty, offer joy for her birthday, or congratulate her engagement. Inwardly, Cho resented that they didn't congratulate her for leading the Ravenclaw team to winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup, or for being accepted to the College of Sages after a strenuous and difficult application process, or being a major figure in the resistance against Voldemort's campaign. Instead, it was all about her looks or her capacity to give birth to a brood of pureblood children. _How entirely typical_, Cho thought, taking another sip of the wine. The liquid was supposed to calm her nerves, but it wasn't helping, and Cho had been too caught up in the celebrations for her to address her parents on the issue, only heightening her anxieties. Taking a deep breath, Cho strode up to her parents, trying to assume the confident gait of pureblood nobility even as her legs turned to jelly. "Mother, Father, I must speak with you in private for a moment," she declared imperiously, receiving a confused and somewhat annoyed glare from Han in response. Setting aside her drink, Cho said, "It is about my upcoming arrangement to Zhang. With respect to both of you, I believe that you are making a mistake. Zhang is the child of our enemies, the same enemies that drove us from China and forced us to come here. Moreover, he has not demonstrated that he is worthy of either my hand or my affections. Please reconsider this, for I do not wish to see him, nor do I feel that he would be a good husband to me."

Han Chang frowned at his daughter's sudden protest. "Cho, your mother and I have spent a great deal of time and effort resolving the situation, and we are certain that Zhang will be an excellent match for you. He is of a good family, has some good prospects and is of good blood lineage. A union of our two houses will ensure that our family's financial situation remains strong, and our fortunes will continue to prosper. You must trust us, daughter, for we know what is best for you. A marriage between yourself and Zhang will keep you safe from the horrors of this idiotic war, and ensure that you never known sickness or want. It is the right decision."

_Do they not know what I have accomplished?_ Cho thought, aghast. _Do they not know what I have seen, all the evils committed on the orders of Voldemort? They believe a marriage can hide me from it?_

Han's hand cupped his daughter's cheek, bringing her eyes level with his. "Zhang will be good for you, Cho, a fresh start after all of the tragedies you have suffered. England has brought nothing but sadness for you, my daughter, and your relationships with Diggory and Potter have brought you nothing but hurt. Time to set them aside, and embrace a new beginning."

"But..." Cho had refrained from telling her parents about the renewed relationship and affections between herself and Harry, and that seemingly prudent decision now had backfired in a big way. "It's not like that!"

"We know you are anxious about your engagement, daughter," Song said, placing her hands upon Cho's shoulders to still her. "This is why we invited Zhang to come here tonight, so you could get to know each other better. If he behaves in a disgraceful manner unbefitting our family, then we will reconsider our plans for you, but in truth, I doubt Zhang will dishonour himself or any other. We have chosen well, my daughter, and if it was the wrong choice, then we will set things right."

_By choosing another against my will. And another and another_...It would never end, she understood, unless she put a stop to it right now. _Maybe I can convince them to offer my hand in marriage to Harry!_ she considered, her Ravenclaw mind examining all possible escape routes from Zhang's clutches. After all, Harry was pureblood, rich, from a good family, if one that hadn't travelled in the same circles as her own before that fateful night. Moreover, if it was her safety that she was concerned about, then why not tell them about the energies of the Founders? One would think that such knowledge would be enough to placate her parents, and cause them to sponsor Harry as a prospective husband over Zhang.

The idea was tempting, but Cho rejected it, angry at herself for even considering it. She had fought long and hard to achieve greater independence from her parents and stop this arranged marriage, but now was contemplating an embrace of that system of misogyny and control, just to be with Harry. She had stood for women's rights and against the patriarchal excesses of pureblood wizards since she was old enough to form a conscious political opinion, and would not abandon her values just for the sake of convenience. She would marry Harry in her own fashion, not be bound by strict patriarchial guidelines that demanded a woman remain subservient. Inwardly furious, Cho made sure that no one was looking, then pitched the remaining wine into one of her mother's ornamental shrubs.

"He's here, Cho!" her mother cried, delicate hands gripping her arm. "Zhang is here!" Cho caught a glimpse of her father ushering newcomers into the hall, and then she saw him.

The first thing that Cho noticed about Zhang was his hair; jet-black and greased back along his skull until it resembled an obsidian dome moulded to his head. Like her own garments, his robes were well-cut and made of fine blue silk, while perfect white teeth grinned as he saw his intended. Strong hands clasped her own, and his facial features were quite handsome, as much as she hated to admit it. Zhang held himself up with a proud, almost arrogant bearing, and his voice was rich and cultured as he spoke. "Miss Cho Chang, it is an honour to finally meet you, and on such a grand occasion as this. Your parents have spoken very highly of you, but even they seemed to underestimate both your beauty and your elegance. I only hope that tonight will be the first of many meetings before us, and that you find me worthy of you."

_Fat chance_, Cho thought, but she restrained from telling him off, instead meeting his polite words in kind. "Thank you, Zhang Han San. I thank you for your kind words, and I too look forward to speaking with you this evening, for we have much to discuss. Will you take supper with us?"

Zhang's eyes lit up, and Cho could only imagine that he was undressing her with them. "I would be honoured." Dismissively, Cho's intended turned his attentions to the figure beside him, a leaner, younger looking man only a little older than she was. The family resemblance was plain, but it was obvious that this man's fortunes were poorer than Zhang's. His clothes were of a rougher quality and design, and he maintained a timid air, looking quite uncomfortable amongst such distinguished company. "This is my brother, Quan Han Sen. He is one of the top students at the Shanghai Institute for Sorcery, and has come with me at my father's request to see what magic Britain has to offer."

"I am honoured that you would accept us into your house, Mr. Chang," Quan said, polite but uncertain. His eyes caught Cho's for a moment, and he turned away, blushing. "I hope that my presence here will not be an intrusion, given what my brother and yourself have to discuss."

"Then you shouldn't have come," Zhang snarled under his breath, and Quan shrank in the face of his brother's fury.

Cho stepped forward. She had always heard that Zhang was a bully, but the idea that his own brother could suffer at his hands made her blood boil. "No, it is you who honours us with your presence, Quan Han Sen," she said, ignoring her intended in a deliberate snub. "Our house is your house, and you are welcome here."

"Of course!" Han interjected, playing the exuberant host. "Come in, both of you! My chef has a poor temperament, but he does fine work, and we had best not wait and let the food get cold. Come."

An elaborate dinner followed with all of Cho's favourites; dumplings, chicken and rice, a wide variety of other Chinese dishes, as well as some more British-style food, including some rather excellent roast beef. The elaborate dining hall was full of laughter and good cheer, as scores of men and women of varying ages and relations drank to Cho's health and feasted on the finest dishes the Chang's staff prepared. Seated on fine silk cushions, Cho found herself next to her prospective husband, flinching ever time the older man 'accidently' brushed up against her bare, muscled arms. "So tell me, Cho," Zhang asked, laying on the charm, "from what your parents have told me, you are going to be attending a healer's school in Iceland. Correct?"

"The College of Sages is more than just a healer's school. It brings in students from around the world and offers teaching in a variety of disciplines. It is considered to be a magical university only for the academic elites, and you need to be the best to be accepted," Cho replied, with more than a little satisfaction. "It is a four-year program, and once completed, I'll be able to work at any Wizarding medical institution in the world."

"But why do you need such a degree when we are to be wed?" came the patronizing reply. "You'll have no need to subject yourself to the horrors of the medical ward."

Cho bristled at this. "I should think that you would desire a wife with as broad a basis of knowledge as possible. After all, the proper wife can carry a conversation and offer something new to the table, not merely go through the motions."

Zhang gave a contemptuous sniff. "And do you agree with your daughter's assessment, Mister Chang? I have always thought that a good wife's place is in the home, not at university. What do you say?"

"Cho has the right to go to university," Han said, frowning at Zhang's demeanour. "She has worked hard at Hogwarts, and she should be given the opportunity to go further and learn more before she settles down. That being said, Cho, why study to be a Healer? It will not be a rewarding path of knowledge after you are marred, so it seems a waste of time and effort. Why not Economics? Then you could help out with the operation of our businesses."

_And become another blue-blooded profit-obsessed and self-righteous old pureblood, just like you?_ Cho thought. "I do not have the same head for business as you do, Father. Besides, the world needs good doctors, especially with the war going on," she said, inwardly shocked that her father considered her highly enough to suggest that she had a role in the Chang businesses. Previously, he had thought her only good for marrying off, and while Cho hated his suggestion, she did realize that his heart was in the right place. Even better, Zhang fell silent at Lee's firm rebuttal, giving Cho the chance to eat her dinner in relative peace, toasting alongside her relatives and engaging in some polite conversation with Quan. "So, Quan, what are you studying at the Institute? I hear they have a very good reputation in Potions and Alchemy."

Quan nearly jumped in his seat, freezing like a deer caught in the headlights of a Muggle lorry, but quickly composed himself. "Like Hogwarts, the Institute offers many courses, but I've found my strength lies in the study of history. I'd like to continue this path after I graduate, but I'm uncertain as to where to go."

"A man should have plans, especially in uncertain times like this," Han stated, the wheels inside his brain churning even now. "War threatens to spill over into this great community, and while I try not to involve myself in outside troubles unless it affects us, it's starting to get bad out there. Demand for my goods has dropped over the past few months; people are scared, and thanks to Bones and her increases in spending, prices have gone up. I accept that the Ministry and these 'Shadow Hunters' want to destroy the Death Eaters, but they are hurting the economy doing it. Fools, all of them. You can't change the world through a tavern brawl, but through invention and the economy. We just have to hold on, and things will get better. Let the forces of Light and soldiers of Darkness destroy each other, we'll be standing by the end."

"Voldemort doesn't care about market demand, Father, he's a butcher. He will not stop until he's either dead or he dominates this entire country, perhaps beyond!" Cho exclaimed empathetically, visions of Hogsmeade burning and children dying seared into her mind. She thought of Harry and Blaise and all the others who were risking their lives to defeat the Dark Lord, and her father's comments stung. "Those fighting him are heroes, sacrificing much so that we might live in peace. They should be honoured, not derided."

"At the very least, daughter, you will not have to suffer from the war," Song stated, taking another sip of her wine. "Your place is here. You are safe here, and that is all that matters."

Eventually, though, Zhang found the courage to speak up in the face of Cho's icy demeanour towards him. "This war will not last long, I can assure you. Voldemort is a terrorist, nothing more, and he's far too destructive for his own good. A few more atrocities like the one he committed in Hogsmeade, and the people will turn against him. I'm sure of it."

"I hope you are right, lad," Han replied, pleased that his potential son-in-law was taking the conversation in a better direction. "Wizarding Limehouse has not yet suffered the Dark Lord's depredations thanks to our local militia and the defensive wards, but I'd feel better knowing that he was out of the picture for good. Business might pick up a bit then."

"Defeating Voldemort isn't as simple as winning the public over in our favour," Cho added. "We need the support of the people, yes, but stopping Voldemort will require destroying his armies, stopping his recruitment, cutting off his supply lines and ultimately killing him. I have a feeling that the war will take a great deal longer to win than you might think, Zhang."

Zhang ignored his bride-to-be. "No, Voldemort will not last long. The..._creature_ can certainly fight, and certainly knows how to lead troops into battle, but he does not know how to _govern_. Even if he does defeat the British Ministry, what then? The Dark Lord has not demonstrated that he could run this country or any other should he conquer it."

"You think that his plans of empire are implausible?" Han asked.

"Empire?" Zhang laughed contemptuously. "Of thieves? Of murderers? Even with his use of terror tactics and the Imperius Curse, Voldemort will never gain the support of the people needed to rule. No, he will eventually be defeated, and then, Madam Bones and her war-time government can be replaced with something more rational, more along the lines of the magical state we have established in China. Ordered, prosperous, disciplined, reasonable..."

Cho addressed the elephant in the room he had brought up. "You believe that a woman cannot lead a nation?"

"I believe that in times of great stress, people will turn to foolhardy leadership and make poor choices if it means that they will feel safe. How much does this Madam Bones know about governance, actually?"

That was enough for Cho. It was one thing to have a differing political opinion, but quite another to deny someone a chance to succeed based on petty things like gender. Excusing herself, Cho left the table, fists clenched tight at her side as she felt Zhang's eyes on her rear, eyeing her like a piece of meat. It took all her self-control not to hex him into next week, and only when she reached the cool open air of the garden did she allow herself to calm down, albeit it slightly. Heels clacking on the stone path, the Champion took a seat upon a nearby bench, trying to compose herself. It wasn't working; her parents were not accepting her feelings about the marriage, Zhang was everything she had known and worse, and all her attempts at bargaining and compromise were meeting with failure. It was as if they were not understanding her words, like the idea of her marrying whom she wished was such a foreign concept as to be incomprehensible.

Cho bit her lower lip nervously, even the tranquil gardens she loved unable to quell her anxieties. She needed to get back to Hogwarts and get away from the politicking and Zhang and the vapid conversations about nothing and everything else about the life of the pureblood elite she despised. She needed to escape this place before anyone noticed her absence, retreat back to the warmth of Ravenclaw Tower and actually do something with her life.

"Excuse me, Miss Chang," came the seemingly-distant voice, and Cho focused in, seeing Quan standing before her, hands raised in a placating gesture. "I hope I am not disturbing you?" he asked gently, his eyes flickering over her as if to watch for some hostile reaction.

"No, not at all, Quan," Cho replied, standing up and smoothing the skirt of her qipao. "Is there something I can do for you?"

At this, the Chinese wizard stuttered and bowed low. "I must apologize for my brother's conduct tonight, Miss Chang. He should not have dismissed your academic efforts so easily, or should he have insulted you in such fashion. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Cho was stunned for a moment, not having expected an apology from Zhang's much mistreated younger brother, but quickly composed herself. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Quan. Your brother's actions were his own, and it should not be up to you to cover for him. Still, I appreciate your concern, and I accept the spirit behind your words." She frowned for a moment, stepping towards him. "Why do you let Zhang treat you like that?"

"He is my brother, Miss Cha-"

"Call me Cho, Quan," she insisted, touching his shoulder. "I'm not going to tell Zhang anything about what you say here, alright? Speak as you wish, I won't judge you."

"He is my brother, and I am honour-bound to help him," Quan explained, his words spoken more confidently now, retreading old excuses. "For all his flaws, he does care about me, and is far more experienced in these matters than I. How could I not trust his judgement?"

"And this marriage? What do you think of that?"

Quan looked even more uncomfortable now. "Admittedly, I would be uncertain about marrying someone I had only just met. Please, do not take offense, Cho, for you are a wonderful woman and Zhang is indeed lucky to have you. But for myself..." He paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "How he and our families are going about this...it is not how I would have done it."

"Thank you for being honest with me, Quan," Cho replied. "It means more to me than I can express."

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity. And you? Do you have doubts about this at all?"

"None whatsoever," Cho replied confidently. "I am not going to marry Zhang, no matter what my parents will think of the match between us. If they like him so much, then _they_ should wed him." _Merlin, that felt good to say!_ she thought, investing every bit of the considerable scorn she could muster. "I'm a _witch_, Quan, and I'm a woman, not one of those scabby broodmares the pureblood elite is so fond of. And will not bow down to him just because of who his parents are or the extent of his pedigree."

New footsteps sounded on the stone. "But you will, Cho, I insist upon it," Zhang Han San exclaimed, marching up to meet her. "Leave, Quan."

"But..."

"Are you deaf or simply stupid, brother?" Zhang roared, cowing his sibling into submission. "Leave!"

Head drooping in shame, Quan left. "My brother is an idiot. He shouldn't have been talking to you, Cho. I hope you don't think I'm a loser like him too."

"Your brother was very kind to me, Zhang. If anyone is shamed by your arrogant displays, it's yourself. Why do you treat him like that? He respects and cares about you, and you make him feel like less than dirt."

Zhang snorted. "Quan needs to be stronger if he's going to make it in this world. I'm his damn brother, who else is going to help the loser become a real man if not me?" he declared, as if the point was obvious. A hand reached out, caressing the young woman's cheek. "Besides, if anyone deserves some alone time with the bride-to-be, it's going to be me."

Cho slapped his hand away, becoming increasingly angry now. "You haven't earned it yet, and I don't think you're even capable. Good night." Whirling away, Cho was suddenly halted by Zhang's firm grip on her upper arm. "Release me."

"You're going to be my wife, Cho, so you'll need to understand some very simple rules. First, I don't appreciate it when my authority is undermined in front of others; as my wife, you will keep a civil tongue in your head whenever we have company. Second-"

"Your _authority?_ Merlin, you are conceited," Cho snapped back. "What authority would that be, I wonder? That of your little regime of tyrants and killers back in China, bullying anyone who dares to stand up for themselves? Or are you one of those purebloods who believe that you're Merlin's gift to magic, and those beneath your class are just grist for the mill? Or is it the illusionary authority you believe men automatically possess over women, and that I should just lay at your feet like the family dog, to roll over and play fetch whenever you ask? No, Zhang, you have no authority over me, and you will _never_ get an opportunity to obtain it. Now release me!"

During their training with Stormfury, the Champions learned numerous ways to defend themselves, including some unarmed combat. While not proficient in it, Cho had picked up a few tricks, particularly how to escape an enemy's grasp or disarm an opponent wielding a wand, and put such lessons into practice now. Zhang gave a startled yelp as Cho struck his exposed wrist with her other hand, stunning his grip, before seizing him by the arm and throwing him over her shoulder. Her intended husband crashed into the pond, scattering the fish and rousing the guests from their meal. Zhang reached up to pull himself from the water, only to find Cho's wand pointed at his face, her tone deathly cold. "You don't know me all that well, Zhang, so you'll need to understand some very simple rules. First, do not touch me without my consent, _ever_. I don't care who you are or what claims to power you have, but my body is my own, and I will never give it up to the likes of you. Deal with it."

"Bitch!" Zhang raged, raising his wand to hex her. It was childishly slow, and Cho easily sent the instrument spinning from his hand and into the water before he could utter a single syllable.

"Secondly," Cho added, continuing on as if nothing had happened. "If you want to share a place in my heart, mind and bed, then you'll have to earn it. Show me why you are worthy, don't simply demand. Harry has done this. He has found the strength inside himself to be a better man, and for that. and more, I love him." Zhang's eyes widened at the name. "Yes, _Harry Potter_. Do you honestly think it's worthwhile for you to be insulting his lover?"

"Cho!" Han boomed in shock as he stepped out into the gardens.

"And third," the young woman continued, letting the energies of Ravenclaw burst forth from her hand, watching Zhang's eyes widen with fright. "My destiny is so far beyond you that you can't even comprehend it. While you and your father were bullying your people, I was on the battlefield, fighting those who would seek to oppress this country. While you sat smug in your delusions of pureblood superiority, I have seen Muggleborns of even the most humble birth and character perform greater acts of heroism and brilliance than you ever will. And while you were drooling over the idea of having a perfect, docile bride, I have been trying to make the world better." Cho levelled the magic against his face, his eyes widening in terror. "What makes you think you are worthy of me? Of any woman, let alone the Champion of Ravenclaw?"

Zhang whimpered, and Cho felt the eyes of a hundred people staring in shock. Quenching the magic, Cho turned on her heel, trying to calm herself before she did something foolish. "Leave. Now," she commanded, and walked away, ignoring the frightened and appalled whispers of those in attendance as they gave the young beauty a wide berth.

All but her father, who stepped forward with barely contained anger. "What have you done, Cho? Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for us? I am very disappointed in you, daughter, I though you knew better than that."

"In that case, I'm _not_ sorry to disappoint you, Father," Cho hissed back, meeting his gaze. "You want to talk about humiliation? What of the humiliation of being bartered about like a prized mare for political favours? What of the humiliation of knowing your own family considers you as an object to be traded rather than a person? What of the humiliation of not being allowed to forge your own path, and instead intended to part your thighs to whomever can pay the bride-price? I have known humiliation the likes of which you cannot understand, and if you know what's best for you, then you will stay out of my way."

"All we wanted to do was protect you, Cho, to make you happy!"

"Then you should have asked me what I wanted. You should have let me choose for myself, and to hell with tradition! Besides, I have been fighting Death Eaters for the past year, I am well on my way to getting into the College of Sages, I don't need you to monitor my every move!"

"Death Eaters! Cho, why didn't you tell us?"

The young woman paused, then finally spoke. "Because...because you wouldn't understand." Before Han could reply back, Cho was gone, weaving her way past the guests and heading up to her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her before exhaling a sigh of regret. She had been harsh, perhaps too harsh, but it needed to be said. A rift had been formed between her parents and herself that would not easily be sealed, if at all. And perhaps concealing the truth about her efforts as a warrior had been wrong, but what other choice did she have? They would have never allowed her to fight the darkness as she needed to.

Quickly, Cho stripped, changing into a more practice set of pants, tunic and flat-soled boots, rapidly pulling her hair into a ponytail. She needed to be away from here, away from prying eyes and angry demands, away to a place where she could think and calm herself after everything that had happened. She hoped that Harry was doing well, as right now she wanted nothing more than to take comfort in his arms and forget her troubles, even for a moment. It was cowardly, but it was the only choice she had now.

A creak sounded on the stairs leading to her room, and Cho froze, bemused. Were her parents attempting to force a confrontation in her own quarters? They must have done a good job of calming the guests down, as the main floor seemed oddly silent, even through the door...

Cho's quick reflexes were the only thing that saved her, as the Stunning Curse punched through the door and missed her by mere inches. The Death Eater burst into the room, even as screams erupted from downstairs. The young girl deflected another Stunner into the wall next to her bed, retaliating with a Slashing Curse that left his right arm torn and bloody. A final Disarming Curse sent both wand and Death Eater hurtling into the hall, breaking a window on impact. Raised voices from downstairs bellowed for Cho, and the girl seized her katana before rushing into the fray...

* * *

"Everything quiet out there, Ginny?" Parvati Patil asked her squad leader as she returned to Gryffindor Tower, carrying a large pot of tea with her. The Hellions and Indefagitable were part of the second watch, and with the permission of Professor McGonagall, had camped themselves out into the common room until their shift. Two dozen men and women sat together, playing cards, chatting in quiet tones, and otherwise counting down the minutes until they were called up, and all eyes turned to Ginny as she entered.

Ginny tried to ignore the slight tremble in her hands as she replied, "Yeah, everything is fine. Nothing to report, really. Between Susan, Hannah, Ron and Daphne's squads, nothing's getting through anyways, even if the Death Eaters come. Anyone feel like some tea?"

Assent was called out all-round, and soon the entire pot was emptied. "I'll go get some more, guys. You just relax," Ginny called back, and then she was gone, casting the container into the nearest dark corner. She was on the path now.

* * *

The air was bitterly cold in Harry's lungs as the Champion of Gryffindor knelt alongside the road approaching Hell Pit, waiting for the signal to move forward. Alongside him were dozens of battle-ready witches and wizards, the vanguard of the force that would break the Death Eaters at Hell Pit and slay their dreaded leader before the sun was up. Disillusionment Charms, Invisibility Cloaks, the darkness and other forms of concealment kept the troops mostly hidden from prying eyes, but so close to the lair of their enemy, the forces of Light had crouched on the damp earth, unmoving, as if an errant twitch would betray their presence to Voldemort. Beside him, Harry could feel the warmth of Blaise's body pressing against his own, and the Slytherin girl growled with impatience. "Where the bloody hell is Snape?" she demanded in an angry whisper. "He should have come back by now."

"If he does betray us, I will kill him," Stormfury added, gazing stoically down the road, blue eyes giving no sign of worry or anxiety. Harry himself tried to stay calm, but the excitement of the fight ahead left him feeling jittery, despite the breathing exercises he had learned studying with Avalon. Too much was at stake here, and the idea of trusting Snape with his life and the lives of others didn't sit well with him. Meanwhile, Stormfury continued on, oblivious to the discomfort of the Champions. "Before us lies the heart of the enemy, warriors. Gaea willing, upon this night we shall reach forth and tear it out!"

A murmur of assent rose from the other troops. They were Aurors and Shadow Hunters and Order volunteers and the soldiers of the Saladin Legion and Peacekeepers and troops from a dozen nations, all committed to the cause of the Light and Voldemort's destruction. Months of constant raids and guerrilla warfare had worn them down, and eroded what little patience they possessed in the fight against the Dark Lord. Each man and woman there wanted nothing more than to storm Hell Pit, to slaughter the Death Eaters within, and to bring Voldemort to justice, and none of them were eager to wait for any longer than necessary.

Then a bright blue light flashed; once, then three times in rapid succession: Snape's signal. "Move up towards the mine entrance! Bring up the rest of the army!" Stormfury ordered, grabbing Tonks by the shoulder. "Make sure to leave a few companies behind to cover our rear, Captain, and ensure that we are not outflanked."

"I've put a score of Qadir's troops on it, as well as two companies worth of Aurors and about a dozen of the Order," Tonks replied. "That's over a hundred battle-ready wizards, and truth be told, part of me thinks it's too much. When we storm that mine, it's going to be bloody, and we'll need every wand we can bring to bear."

"We'll be enough, Captain," Stormfury answered, teeth set on edge. "Maintain your position here, but be ready to support us if necessary or to take down any fleeing Death Eaters. Are the Disapparation Charms in place?"

"Yes, I set them myself just a few minutes ago, and the entire mine is covered. Anyone within Hell Pit won't be able to Apparate out, though they won't last more than a few hours, so you'll have to be quick about it."

"Fair enough. Warriors, to me! Quick and silent, now!"

Immediately, Harry and Blaise were up, legs pumping to a brisk cadence, joining a vast and swift tide of warriors storming up the road. Harry caught a glimpse of the Slytherin girl's face as they advanced, her wide blue eyes exhilarated and tense, a coiling string ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Harry felt much the same, and he forced himself to stay calm and not jump the gun. Stealth and surprise were key elements of the attack, and he would not jeopardize all their lives with a rash move.

Snape met them near the wide entrance of the tunnel, face drawn tight. "Quickly, into Hell Pit. Only a few Death Eaters are left here, but they are preparing to move the Chaos Stones even now. We must hurry!"

"How many are there?" Stormfury asked, motioning more troops forwards.

"A few dozen, no more. Still, the Death Eaters have determined how the nullify the aura produced by the Stones long enough to teleport them to their secondary base. A few more minutes, and we might lose our best chance!"

"Be silent, Snape, before I forget who you are," Stormfury snapped, quelling the Potion Master's desperation. "We shall proceed quietly and only strike when we are in position. This tunnel, it branches off into several passages, all leading to the main chamber?"

"Yes. The second tunnel is new, carved out two months ago by the Muggle slaves kept by the Death Eaters. Before you arrived, I disabled the wards and other protections that defend Hell Pit, and the Death Eaters present are distracted by their work with the Chaos Stones. Assuming of course you can strike first, you should be able to overwhelm them."

"Good. Captain Qadir, take your troops and follow the left-hand tunnel. The Aurors and Shadow Hunters will travel through the right. Lupin, I'd like your Order volunteers to assist the Saladin Legion."

Lupin nodded. "Of course." The old werewolf seemed to have aged years since the last time Harry met him and looked more rumpled than ever, but his fighting skills were apparently, and the intelligent gleam in his eyes had not faded. "There will probably be more sentries standing watch inside, so we'd best get rid of them before proceeding."

"Blaise and I brought our Invisibility Cloaks, we can do it," Harry suggested.

"Good. Proceed, and we shall follow," came the Shadow Hunter's reply.

Harry and Blaise donned their Invisibility Cloaks and stealthy made their way into the main chamber. Excitement and tension had heightened his senses, and each footfall felt impossibly loud to his ears, echoing off the cavern walls. The army would have to move very quietly in order to avoid alerting the guards, but with any luck, soon they wouldn't be a problem. A hand poked out from nothingness, gesturing to the guard on the left, facing the centre of the chamber. Harry slipped his own out from behind his Cloak, then Stunned the sentry with a quick incantation. Blood splashed onto the rock as Blaise dispatched another, and then the Champions were over the fallen bodies, winding their way through the vastness of Hell Pit. It was more than just a fortress for the Dark Lord to plot and scheme, Harry realized, it was a community in its own right. The troops threaded through storehouses filled with crates and wandmaking facilities, barracks and pleasure-houses, all built from the very rock of the mine. The air was rank with the stench of decay and human bodies. The sentries were more numerous here, but still unawares and scattered, allowing Harry and Blaise to silent get the drop on them, ambushing from around corners and cutting them down where they stood. More soldiers followed them, and Harry's breath tightened as he saw the Chaos Stones looming overhead, monolithic and terrifying. _Merlin's breath, how in the world are we going to destroy those things?_

They were near the central chamber now, and the dirge-like chants of the Death Eaters had become booming in their intensity. Ducking behind the wall of a small storehouse, Harry examined the enemy forces. About a hundred Death Eaters, just as Snape had said, with most of them focused on shifting the Chaos Stones. It was a small force, much smaller than the combined army sent to destroy them, and doubtless the forces of Light would defeat them. The main problem was one of distance. Over a hundred years of open ground stood between the Death Eaters and their foes, and it would take only a single shout to bring a wave of Killing Curses upon them. Taking off his cloak, he motioned Stormfury closer. "Snape was right, they aren't ready for us."

"All of their forces are by the Stones?" the Shadow Hunter inquired.

"Yeah, save for the sentries that Blaise and I took care of. We have surprise on our side, but they have distance. There are too many to pick off, and we won't be able to cover the gap in time before they start fighting back."

"Don't worry about that, boy, we've planned for something like that. Are you sure there are no other Death Eaters present?"

Harry nodded. "As sure as I can be. They've got everyone focused on moving the Stones, they've even forgotten about a lot of their supplies in their storehouses. We crush them and the Stones will be defenceless."

"Good," Stormfury stated, clapping Harry on the back. "Stay here, we'll take care of them."

One of the Death Eater sentries looked around with obvious laxity, unaware of their presence. He was still unconcerned about the possibility of enemy attack when the roots back to emerge from the ground, popping up from the stone and growing dozens of feet in moments. With a sudden lunge, the roots ensnared the sentries, wrapping themselves around their bodies and squeezing, some sprouting vicious spikes to plunge into their bodies. Horrified, they tried to fight back, but the roots were too strong and were already strangling the life from them. Panicked screams emerged, and the Death Eaters working at the Chaos Stones turned, startled to this sudden intrusion.

Then the whip-cracks sounded, as two dozen Aurors Apparated into the middle of the enemy formation, each bringing a Shadow Hunter along for the ride. Apparating in combat was a risky move, particularly when teleporting with another person, the spell was designed for covering long distances, not warping into the middle of a firefight. Its use here was unexpected, and the Death Eaters were caught completely unprepared as the rapid-assault troops, dozens of them tore to pieces by the ferocity of their attack. Shadow Hunter blades scythed through the enemy ranks, sending blood spraying in all directions, while the spells of the Aurors overcame their defences with casual ease. Stormfury's battle cry sounded, and the main army struck, storming towards the Death Eaters, unleashing a hurricane of spells and catching the distracted terrorists completely off their guard. Harry caught a glimpse of dark eyes widening in fear through the mask as he slammed into one of the Death Eaters, carrying the excess momentum and the hilt of Runefang forward into the man's jaw, breaking it completely. At his side, Blaise summoned the energies of Slytherin and sent it racing ahead of her in the form of a mass of serpents, ripping through the enemy.

Scything down a Death Eater who tried to resist, Harry bounded towards the Stones, bringing the energies of Gryffindor to him. With a mighty roar, he struck the nearest obelisk with a fiery lance, intent on shattering the artefact before it could do any harm.

To his abject horror, the blast seemed to _phase_ through the artefact, giving off a mirage-like shimmer, distorting and vanishing for a moment before returning to normal. In fact, _all_ of the Stones seemed to be like that, twisted, ethereal...

_Not really there..._

"Stormfury!" Harry's voice cut through the din of combat. "It's a trap!"

Tendrils of dark energy manifested from the ground with a sudden swiftness, and then lunged for the Champions, seizing them by the wrists, ankles and throat, pulling them upwards in a horrible embrace. In the warehouses and storerooms they had passed earlier, horrible screams emerged as an army of Inferius boiled from their confinement like a swarm of cockroaches. Thousands of the howling undead streamed through the streets of Hell Pit to encircle the forces of Light, while their necromantic puppetmasters blasted the roof, sending stone shards raining down upon them. "To arms, children of Gaea! Stand fast!" Stormfury screamed as the first Inferi slammed into their ranks...

* * *

"Second shift starts in ten minutes, Neville. Are you ready?" Hermione asked, rousing Neville from his trance. "We should check our squads before the watch starts, just to make sure they're ready."

"Coming, Hermione," came his reply as he gave Luna one last kind look. "I told the Indefagitable to meet me in the Gryffindor Common Room. Professor McGonagall is letting us assemble there, so I should be able to deploy th-"

Bright silver eyes snapped open, terrified, and Luna Lovegood let out a piercing scream.

"Luna!" Neville was instantly at her side. "Are you -"

"_Kill her!_" the girl howled, clutching Neville tightly, her fingers digging into his back and shoulders. "Put her down with the Killing Curse, throw her into the darkness, _anything!_ You can't let her complete her task, you can't!"

"What do you mean? Who are you talking about?" Neville demanded.

Luna suddenly froze, eyes peering into the wall as if trying to stare beyond it. "Oh no. We're too late. He's here! They're all here!"

The sixth-floor girls bathroom. This was where it had all began for her.

Ginny's sobs continued as she stared at the central sink that dominated the lavatory, petrified with fright. She could feel him worming around in the back of her mind, the beast that had haunted her for so long, twisting and coiling around her brain and making it his own. For years, it had remained dormant within her, buried deeply by its creator, with not even the Spirit Walker able to detect its presence.

The girl stifled her tears. She was tired of always having to hide, of staring Death in the face every time she looked out the window, of everything. She couldn't stop it, as much as she wanted to. It would happen. Better to do it herself, to protect those she loved and gain some small advantage in the new order to come.

Slowly, Ginny raised her arms over her head and began to speak, the word twisting into the hiss of a snake. The sink parted, opening up with the groan of shifting metal and stone to reveal the passageways beneath. A dark-cloaked figure rose up, peering out like a mole emerging from its den, examining the room for threats before signalling others out of the darkness. More rose from the catacombs, streaming their way into the halls, pausing only to nod to the girl as they passed. The other howled in triumph as terror overcame the girl, and she felt herself sinking.

As the first screams began to echo through the halls, Asmodeus approached the girl, bowing. "The second wave will be in position within the next five minutes. Your orders?"

"Bring down all who stand in your way," the voice of Tom Riddle spoke through his vessel. Eyes burning red, Ginny Weasley, the last Horcrux of Lord Voldemort, smiled. "Take this place, and prepare it for Kharaidon's ascension!"

* * *

Darkness had fallen and most of the Ministry staff had gone home, but the lights in the office of Minister Amelia Bones still burned strongly. Setting aside the document she had been reviewing, the older woman looked up to see Penelope Clearwater bearing a pot of tea and two cups. "Earl Grey, Madam Minister?" Penelope asked.

"Thank you, Penelope," Bones replied, accepting a cup. Taking a sip, she smiled at her Junior Undersecretary with fondness. "Two lumps, just the way I like it."

"Well, practice makes perfect," her young assistant replied, pouring herself a cup. She gestured at a blue folder sitting on the edge of the desk. "The completed Fudge investigation, Minister. Every bit of evidence the Magical Law Enforcement Squad could find and every charge that can be substantiated at trial, all right there."

Bones grunted. "I doubt even the MLES will have overturned every rock Fudge had buried secrets under," she lamented. "I'm certain it'll be enough to convict him, but he did so much damage in his term, it'll take years to resolve it. More so, if the conservatives manage to stymie things."

"It is a start, Minister. A fair trial may help to ease the tensions and fix the issues of corruption when it is resolved. The MLES does remind you though that now all evidence is gathered, the trial must proceed soon. Fudge and Umbridge cannot be held indefinitely, after all."

"Of course, _habeus corpus_." She eyed her assistant, immediately noticing how tired the young woman looked. "You should head home, Penelope, you're exhausted."

Penelope shook her head. "Minister, I just couldn't sleep, knowing that the fate of the war is about to be decided shortly. How can I rest when so many others are fighting and dying for our freedom?"

"Do you think they will succeed?" Bones eyed her.

"Yes, Minister, I do," Penelope responded with conviction. "I do not know Harry Potter as well as I should, but I know Cho Chang. If she trusts him, then I trust him."

"I hope to Merlin that you're ri-"

Whatever Bones intended to say next was silenced in the explosion that ripped through the Ministry, throwing both women out of their chairs and gutting the building. The superstructure groaned like a wounded animal, as brass shattered and marble crumbled, with shelves and desks tossed aside in the initial blast. Bones covered her head as the ceiling began to collapse, trying to shield herself from the debris. "_Penelope!_"

Coughing, Penelope sat up. "I'm here, Minister. Oh, God," she whispered, finally noticing the six-inch shaft of wood that had punched through her left thigh. Blood began to soak her black stockings, and the girl gasped in shock and pain. "Minister..."

"It's alright, help will be here soon," Bones moved to reassure her, casting a minor healing spell to bind the wound tightly. Penelope whimpered, causing Bones to hiss, "Where are the Aurors?"

"They'll be coming shortly, Minister, but not soon enough," came the voice, and Bones paled, her monocle falling out of place. Hands wreathed in warpfire and the Chaotic tattoos burning bright beneath his robes, Lord Voldemort grinned maliciously. "Oh, dearie me, _we are in trouble now!_"

**A/N: **Yeah, I don't really have any excuse for the exceptionally long delay, so I'm not going to even bother. All I'll say is thank you all for your continued support and practice, and I hope that this chapter meets the high standards you've all come to expect. As always, any and all comments will be appreciated, and thank you again for everything. You guys rock!

_Next chapter: Hope fades..._


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